


I Want You To Want Me

by alyse_b



Series: Shine Up the Old Brown Shoes (Put On a Brand New Shirt) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Jokes, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Innuendos all around, M/M, Minor Violence, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Temporary Character Death, bad sex jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6444163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyse_b/pseuds/alyse_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's just a guy who loves to read. Bucky's a beast of a man who lives in a castle nearby. When they meet, it's just a tale as old as time.</p><p>Literally just a rendition of Beauty and the Beast starring Steve, Bucky, and many other Marvel characters</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's all my friend's fault. She reblogged this photo: http://silverscales-anda-redstar.tumblr.com/post/140248256789 and I was struck with inspiration. Go check her out, she's chill and helped me out with the story: silverscales-anda-redstar.tumblr.com/

“Aw, come on. Why not have a drink with me? It’d be the best drink of your life!”

Steve closed the door in Rumlow’s face, pressing his back flat against it and blowing out a sigh. If he had a nickel for every time the pestering brunet had hit on him, he could buy an entire library and all the art supplies he could ever need. It really was getting annoying; he couldn’t even go across town to get a new book without getting a marriage proposal. Well, as much of a proposal as “Steve, you and I will be wed by next week!” can be.

“Just the man I wanted to see! C’mere, Rogers, I need your help!” Tony’s voice came from deeper inside the house they shared. Sure, it had raised some flags at first, two guys living under the same roof without being related. But Steve and Tony did it solely for the fact that they were the only ones who could handle each other’s… unique personalities.

Steve pushed away from the door, ignoring Rumlow’s voice on the other side. He set his book on the table and followed Tony’s voice to his workshop. “What is it this ti—“ Steve’s voice trailed off into silence as he took in the contraption in front of him.

In the center of the small room was a hulking machine, built using one of the chairs from the living room (they’d have to have another discussion about using the furniture for inventions), a tea kettle, a furnace, and (most worrisome) a shiny axe.

“Tony…”

“Before you say a _word_ , hear me out. I know you hate spending your precious nerd time out chopping wood all the time. And your not-so-secret admirer is constantly loitering around our front lawn, hoping to catch a glimpse of your sweaty, glistening Dorito chest as you chop wood. Which is, like, extremely creepy. So, instead, this beauty is going to do all the work for you! You just get a nice fire going and it does the rest itself! Why don’t you give it a whirl?” Steve had long grown used to Tony’s fast chatter and inappropriate commentary. But he’d be damned if he was going to have yet another of his roommate’s inventions blow up in his face.

“No.”

“But, Steve—“

“No. Last time I tested one of your machines, I had soot in my hair for a month. I was lucky to escape with my eyebrows.”

“Maybe if you burnt your perfect brows off, Rummy Bear would find you less appealing and tone down his arousal.”

He rolled his eyes so hard he was worried they’d just go back into his head and stay there, “I’m not going to be your guinea pig”

Tony’s pout was nothing new, nothing Steve hadn’t seen before, “Fine. I’ll test it myself.”

“Later. Have you even eaten yet? When was the last time you slept?”

“Oooh Steve, I love when you get all concerned. It means you start giving orders and that gets me all tingly.”

The blond just shook his head and turned away, headed back to the kitchen, “You’re taking a nap. Then you’re going to eat.”

“I am not a toddler, I don’t need nap time,” a crossing of the arms and a deep-set pout accentuate this fact.

Nap time for Tony turns into a five-hour snooze, complete with snoring and drooling on his pillow. Steve knew it had been at least a day since the mad man had gotten a wink of sleep. Since the invention was at the testing stage, it was time for a mortality-break for Tony.

Steve sets to getting dinner ready, they’re having soup tonight, with fresh bread from the bakery. He makes a lot of it, knowing Tony will go through three servings on his own after this recent mad scientist endeavors. He props his book open near his cooking space, reading a few lines as he chops vegetables.

It’s one of his favorites, he’s probably read it a dozen times. He can’t help but always return to it though, what with the magic, daring sword fights, and a prince in disguise. The story never fails to seize him completely, dragging him in until the words blur into pictures.

“Smells good, roomie,” Tony hovered in the doorway to the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head and pushing himself up onto his toes. His bones groaned and cracked, accompanied by a pleased sigh. “What book did you get today, nerd?”

Steve rolled his eyes, knowing Tony meant nothing with the comment. Tony was probably the only one who could call Steve that without the blond getting offended. He knew what the other townspeople said about him behind his back. While he pretended it didn’t bother him, there were some days when he grew frustrated with the whole thing and asked himself why he couldn’t be normal like them. Then the next morning he’ll realize that people are just cruel creatures and he will continue to read because it is what makes him happy. Just like how Tony will continue to build things because that’s what he likes to do. People’s opinions be damned. “Read it and find out.”

Tony snorted, “Reading’s for you, not me. I just throw everyday shit together to make super cool shit.”

Steve shook his head fondly, setting two bowls at the table, “Whatever. Just eat. You need it.”

The next fifteen minutes were quiet, interrupted only by the occasional slurping of soup. Comfortable silences were normal for them, just an easy lapse in conversation as they each did their own thing. It’s why they decided to live together in the first place, because it meant they could watch out for each other. They’d known each other for a few years before they moved in. They’d bonded over the rest of the village thinking they were freaks, and just understood each other better than anyone ever could have. Since then, they’d learnt a lot about each other.

Steve knew that Tony sometimes struggled with the idea that anyone could ever actually care about him. Though his parents had died when he was young, Tony wasn’t paid much attention to begin with when they _were_ alive. He thinks the reason Tony invents so much is because his father was also an inventor. Tony had always tried so hard to get his father’s attention and maybe he thought he could do it by being more like him. Unfortunately, his attempts were in vain. Perhaps that’s why Steve always made sure to bring something back from the bakery for Tony. Or why he always made sure Tony was healthy. He wanted Tony to realize that people did care for him, that he could be loved.

Tony, in turn, had learned more about Steve than anyone else had ever bothered to. He knew that Steve used to be extremely skinny and sickly. Knew that every winter, without fail, Steve’s lungs would rattle and his skin would pale to match the sky outside. Tony knew that Steve’s mother, Sarah, did everything in her power to keep her little boy alive. She would make him soup and tea and stay up with him at night. After every winter though, Steve would pull through. He’d be as healthy as he could be, what with his asthma and all. When he was fifteen, his mother passed away. Steve began to get healthier, bulked up a bit, because he wanted to make sure he lived well, for himself and Sarah. He didn’t want anyone to ever have to worry about him anymore. Tony knew this was because he blamed himself for Sarah’s death; he thought he caused her enough stress and worry to eventually stop her heart completely. Because of this, Tony never openly worries about his friend, because he knows Steve would hate it, and it would bring up bad memories.

“Did the bookkeeper tell you all about the new novel coming in?” Tony glances up from his food, already in the middle of his second plate. He had stopped in town yesterday for more supplies for his wood-chopper. The owner of the book shop that Steve frequented, Bruce, had recognized him and they got into conversation. Tony didn’t mind Bruce, the guy was open-minded and was the only other villager who happily dealt with Steve and Tony. He would ask Tony about his latest projects, interested in the application of the science he often read about in the books lining the shelves in his shop. Bruce had mentioned to him a new book coming in and asked Tony to let Steve know. Naturally, curiosity overtook him and even Tony needed to know what made this new book so special.

Steve shook his head, sitting back in his chair and making himself comfortable. Knowing Tony, he was about to hear every detail about the new story, and Tony’s opinion on it. “I was kind of in a rush, narrowly escaping the daily proposal and all. I didn’t really get a chance to talk to Bruce.”

“ _Well_ , it sounds just like the kind of nerdy, fantasy type thing you would enjoy. There’s a catch though. The whole thing, the entire story, is completely true,” Tony grinned wide, spreading his hands out in front of him, in an almost ‘ta-da’ type gesture.

His companion crossed his arms, “Yeah, sure. You just said it was like the books I usually read. Fantasy. Fairytales. Just stories.”

“Ah-ah. It’s different this time. I’ve actually heard about this one, from many a villager. It’s an old legend people would tell their kids to keep them from running off into the woods. But the thing is, some say it’s not a myth. They say they’ve heard stuff that totally matches up with the story.”

Steve frowned lightly, watching his friend with a calculating eye. It wouldn’t be the first time Tony had made something up, usually trying to make Steve laugh. “What’s the story?”

Tony grinned widely, sitting up straighter in his chair, “Gather ‘round, children. Uncle Tony’s going to tell the best damn story you’ve ever heard.” He rubbed his hands together for good effect, eyes alight with excitement, “Once upon a time, there lived a prince, in a far off castle. Though not really too far off, just in the woods. Any-who, this prince was used to getting everything his heart desired. So he grew cocky—“

“Are you sure this isn’t a story about you?”

“Hush, Rogers. Where was I? Oh, right. Prince, cock times two. So one night, during a bad storm, there’s a knock at his door. When he answers it, he finds an old beggar woman, her appearance ghastly beneath her hood. She asks for shelter from the terrible storm, and in return offers a rose. He’s repulsed by her looks, however, and turns her away. She warns him not to be deceived by appearances, tells him that true beauty is found within one’s soul. (Which means Rumlow’s actually got the appearance of a cow’s ass). After the prince still turns her away, the woman’s haggardness melts away, revealing her to be a beautiful sorceress. Despite his attempts to apologize, the sorceress sees no love in his heart and casts a curse upon him. The rose she had offered initially as a gift grows and twists until thorns press out at every angle and shit. It wraps around the prince’s arm, the petals up on his shoulder and the stem winding all the way down his arm. The thorns cut deep as the flower imbeds itself into his skin, as a permanent reminder of just what he had done.”

Steve is listening with rapt attention at this point, balanced on the edge of his seat with wide eyes. This was indeed a new story for him, and while Tony was sure he’d heard the villagers talking about it before, Steve himself had heard no such thing.

“The rest of his castle was cursed as well, though I don’t see why the staff has to suffer for the prince’s mistake. Anyway, though, the rest of the villagers have been passing this story around for a while; I’m surprised you haven’t heard it.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully, standing with his empty bowl, “While it is a great story, I still think you’re bullshitting me. There’s no way it could be a true story. That kind of stuff just doesn’t happen in real life. Real life is boring.”

Tony shrugged, “I figure if the villagers, the ones who think we’re crackpots, believe a fairytale, there’s a chance it could have some truth to it.”

Their fellow villagers were certainly the kind to dispel any kind of stories or fantastical ideas. It’s what led to their avoidance of Steve and Tony in the first place. Tony’s logic did make sense, there must have been some kind of truth to the story. How much truth however, is the question.

“Whatever the villagers believe, I still think the story is far too… unreal. It sounds too much like the stories I read, like the make-believe worlds I love,” Steve frowned as he cleaned his dishes. “It sounds…”

“Almost too good to be true,” Tony finished, watching him evenly. Though it may seem he doesn’t pay much attention to what his friend says or how he thinks, he really did care for the big idiot. Tony knew that Steve hated the boring life they lived here in the village, knew that he longed for adventure.

Steve smiled, almost sadly, “Exactly.” Once he finished cleaning, he put his bowl out to dry and then excused himself to his room.

As he laid in bed that night, Steve thought again about the story. How he wished something so stunning could be true. To have that kind of adventure would be amazing, he could only wish to be a part of something like that. Steve could feel his heart beating against his chest as he imagined what it would be like to be part of such a story, to be able to experience the life of fighting dragons and protecting a kingdom. Until then, the only dragon he gets to fight is Rumlow. And he could only hope that some knight in shining armor would swoop in and help him out with that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Steve woke early to sunlight streaming bright and warm through the window. It painted streaks across his room, turning the air to fairy dust as it fell across the sunbeams. He took a few moments to himself, enjoying the comfort of his bed for as long as he could.

He’s only prompted to get up when he hears Tony banging around in the next room, cuss words accompanying the mysterious clattering sounds of tools hitting the floor.

Shuffling out of his room, he’s met with the sight of Tony scuttling around trying to gather his tools back up into their box. The brunet looked up with wide, innocent eyes, “uh… good morning?”

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like, blondie?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door frame, “It looks like you haven’t slept since I made you nap yesterday.”

“That… would be an accurate statement.” The box is placed back on Tony’s worktable. The surface is littered with past projects and pieces of metal. Whenever Steve tells him he should probably clean it up, for safety reasons, Tony insists that it’s “organized chaos” and that he knows what he’s doing. This coming from the guy who once burned his eyebrows off when he was trying to figure out his new blowtorch.

“You need to sleep, Tony. You have got to stop pushing yourself like this.” Steve really was worried for him, this lack of sleep wasn’t good for Tony’s health. Maybe that comes from Steve constantly worried Tony will become as sick as he used to get, balanced precariously on the brink of death. He doesn’t think he could ever be as patient and caring as his mother ever was and was afraid he’d lose his friend if he wasn’t able to take care of him.

Tony shook his head, “I’m fine. Not pushing. You should go run your errands before Rumlow wakes up.”

“Right…” Steve sighed, heading back to his room to get dressed. A storm was on its way in, so he wrapped a cloak around his shoulders, the fabric falling over his fresh pants and shirt. “I’ll be back soon. Please, try to get some rest. At least eat something.”

“Yeah, yeah, take care of my body, yada yada. Go on. See if the bakery has some kind of donut today.” Tony flashed a smile, waving as Steve left the house.

Steve didn’t get very far, before he could hear Rumlow gloating to Zola, his little henchman, about how today was the day he would win Steve’s hand. Not wanting to deal with that kind of drama today, Steve ducked down a side street. He continued along the narrow pathway until he emerged a few buildings over. Quickly ducking into the bakery, Steve sighed in relief. Safe for now.

“Steve. What can I get you today?” The baker’s voice had a smile in it, as it always did when Steve came by.

He turned, returning the smile easily, “Pepper. Tony asked for one of your donuts.”

Pepper nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. She was a pretty woman, with gentle eyes and a fond smile. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a neat bun and her hands were covered in flour. Pepper was kind, but she could also put you in your place if need be. It’s one of the reasons Steve admired her so much. She was also one of the few villagers, along with the bookkeeper Bruce, who didn’t seem to mind Steve and Tony.

“How is Tony?”

Steve smiled lightly, “As Tony as ever. I did get him to sleep, and he’s supposed to eat something before I get back.”

Her laugh was quiet, “That’s good that he’s eating and resting. Even if you have to convince him to do it every time.”

“I suppose so. At least he’s healthy when I make him be.”

Pepper smiled, bagging up a donut for him, “Here you go. Tell Tony to enjoy.”

“I’ll make sure to. He’ll be thrilled to hear it.” Steve grinned lightly, leaving a few coins on the counter for her as he tucked the doughnut away into his bag.

He waved to her on his way out, nearly running smack dab into Rumlow. Of course.

“Steve! Just the man I wanted to see!”

“Funny, you were just the man I was hoping to avoid,” Steve frowned, going to step around him.

Rumlow stayed in his path saying, “I was just thinking, how lucky you would be, to marry a guy like me. So I decided to be generous, and fulfill all your dreams today.” He put on his most charming smile, flashing his teeth in a gesture that concerned Steve more than it made him want to swoon.

Steve couldn’t do more than just blink at him, “yeah… uh… how about ‘no’?” Again he tried to step around Rumlow, but the other man just continued moving to stay in his way.

“Now, now, Steve. This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. I don’t let just anyone be graced with my presence. And you’re the lucky guy who’ll get to bask in my glow for the rest of your life.”

Steve shook his head, “Not in your wildest dreams, would I ever say yes to marrying you. Goodbye, Rumlow.”

Finally ducking past him, Steve starts to jog back to his and Tony’s house, desperate to get away from Rumlow as soon as possible.

“Don’t be that way, darling! Think of all the time you could be spending with me!”

Steve hunched his shoulders in over himself in an almost protective gesture. Keeping his head down, he continued to trudge toward home. But Rumlow would be expecting that… Glancing behind him, Steve waited until a carriage crossed between him and Rumlow, before side-stepping into the forest bordering their village. He weaved between the trees, going deeper into the woods while also trying to stay on the general path toward home.

After a bit, when it seems he’d lost Rumlow completely, Steve paused to catch his breath. His heart was seizing a bit and his lungs felt heavy. He propped his hands on his knees, slowly taking deep breaths until his heart rate returned to normal and he no longer felt this throat constricting.

A quick sweep of his surroundings told him that he had no idea where the hell he was, or how far the village was from his position. What’s worse was a gust of icy wind lifted his cloak, sending him a grim reminder that the storm would be there soon.

Shivering, Steve hugged his cloak tighter around himself and started to trudge in the direction he hoped would take him home. He was not easily frightened, but as the sky darkened with clouds it may as well been the middle of the night beneath the trees. The wind continued to whistle past branches, making them scrape against each other and cause the leaves to whisper about Steve’s fate.

When the rain started, Steve knew he had to get to shelter soon. It pierced even the thicker canopies and he was soaked in just a few minutes. The drops stung like icicles, even through his clothes and his shivers became more violent. As he continued on, his cloak snagged on a branch and he was yanked to a stop. Steve pulled fruitlessly at his cloak trying to free it, but to no avail. He gave up and just untied it from his neck. It was soaking wet anyway, just heavy fabric that made it harder for him to walk.

Steve peered up through the rain, blinking ice crystals from his eyelashes. He could see a break in the trees ahead and he stumbled toward it, toes and fingers becoming numb. Hoping beyond hope that he found his way back to his village, he broke past the trees and stopped.

Ahead of him stood a massive iron gate with metal beams twisting into gentle swirls and sweeps. It stood at least fifteen feet high, set into a wall that stretched as far as Steve could see in either direction. Past the gate stretched a bridge, made of smooth gray stones. At several intervals were lamps meant to gently light the pathway, but between the rain and the wind, their flame had long been extinguished. Beyond the bridge however, was the real cause of Steve’s absolute awe.

At the end of the stone bridge towered the grandest castle he had ever laid eyes on. Once upon a time it may have been beautiful, with glowing marble walls and brick spires. Now though, the marble was darkened. It didn’t necessarily look dirty, no, that wasn’t it. It was more like there was a dark presence about the castle that made the structure itself look grim. Several windows looked to have stained glass set in their frame, but they didn’t shine with color. The rest of the windows were dark, as if curtains were drawn over them, forbidding Steve from seeing inside. The entire castle had a monochromatic look to it, made of blacks and greys and void of any other color.

Perhaps there would be someone inside who could help him. And even if there wasn’t, Steve would be safer inside than he was out here in the freezing cold. The gate groaned its denial as he pulled at it, finally tugging it free. It whined in protest as he swung it open and stepped inside the grounds. It was an entirely different feeling from the forest-side of the gate. Almost colder, if that was even possible. The air felt heavier over here, and it was almost like Steve could feel the color drain from his figure, as his body tried its hardest to blend in with the rest of his surroundings.

Shuffling along the bridge as fast as he could, Steve paused at the huge oak door in front of him. Vines were intricately carved into the dark wood, twisting up and around the edge of the door. At the top, right in the center, the vines met at a large wooden rose, beautifully etched. Steve paused to admire the art, hands twitching with the need to draw it for himself.

The door opened easier than the gate did, only creaking a bit as he poked his head inside. It was dark inside, and opened into a beautiful front room with shiny floors and lofty, arched ceilings. Columns lined a faded red carpet, which lead from the front door to an imperial staircase at the end of the room. Each column seemed to be supported by a growling stone gargoyle at the base, the structures balanced upon their shoulders. Gray, polished stone floors stretched across the entire front room, seeming to continue through the few doors on either side of the room.

Steve was in complete awe, mouth hanging open and all. He turned slowly, trying to take in every detail, as his artist eye demanded. His attention was pulled back to his situation as the wind howled outside and blew sleet into the room. Steve turned on his heel, pushing the door shut quickly. With a bang, he was thrown into near pitch-darkness.

It was warmer inside, though not by much. With no fires burning, the castle was as cold as the stone it was carved from. He stepped further into the room, not really sure where to start. His thought process was interrupted by a clatter just inside one of the doors to his left. Turning quickly, and trying to ignore the shiver that makes its way along his spinal column, Steve stares into the dark doorway, “Hello?”

“Look at the poor dear. He’s freezing.”

“Shouldn’t be out in a storm then.”

“Come on, Tash, I doubt he did it on purpose.”

So he wasn’t alone then. He inched closer to the doorway, “I can hear you! Show yourselves!”

“Well, if you so insist.” A small flame flickers to life, about a foot off the floor, then another, and then a third. A candelabra had been lit, one that was just set on the ground.

Steve knelt down, searching for whoever had lit the candles. He reached for the stem of the candelabra, looking around.

“Hey! Hands off the merchandise! Buy a guy dinner first!”

Pulling his hand back in shock, Steve nearly burned himself on the flames. The candelabra was… grinning at him. Actually grinning. Eyes peered out of the center candle and a mouth had opened up along the rim of the bobeche.

Steve let out a cry of shock, falling back onto his ass. He had to be dreaming. Or dead. That’s it. He actually froze to death. His body was out in the woods, soaked to the bone and freezing and probably getting gnawed on by wolves. Tony had told him a story about a castle and it had sounded like paradise. So his eternal paradise was exactly that. The castle from Tony’s story. Though he doesn’t remember any mention of talking candles. So maybe his mind had just been royally fucked when he died. Maybe that’s what freezing to death does to you. But how would he know? It’s not like he’s ever frozen to death before.

“Woah, woah! Easy man! No harm, no foul!” The candelabra continued to speak, spreading the two staffs on either end of the center one out wide, like arms. It hopped closer to him, “I’m just messing with you.”

“Sam! That’s enough, you’re scaring him half to death.” Another clatter and a teapot hopped into the light given off by the candelabra’s flames. It spoke with a sharp British accent and went easily from fixing the candelabra with a glare from brown eyes to turning to Steve with an almost concerned, motherly look. “Are you alright, dear?” The spout of the teapot appeared to represent the face’s nose and red painted lips were set just beneath it.

“He already looks like death Peggy.” The third voice was coming from a small carriage clock. The actual face of the clock contained keen blue eyes and red lips set into a frown. The handles of the clock appeared to function as arms, as they crossed in front of the figure in an almost defiant pose. “Just make sure he doesn’t die on the carpet. You know how the master would feel.”

The teapot frowned at the clock, but elected to ignore its remarks. As the teapot (she? Peggy?) hopped closer, all Steve could do was stare. He hoped this wouldn’t continue for much longer. What God would play such a cruel trick on him?

“You look like you’re going to faint. Come now, chin up. I’ll start some tea. Sam, let him have a seat in the study and start a fire.”

The candelabra, Sam apparently, nodded curtly, “Come on, man. Let’s get your body temperature back up to normal. You look like a human popsicle.”

With a lot of prompting, Steve was able to stumble to his feet. He figured at this point that his toes were nonexistent, which was odd. Aren’t you supposed to feel better once you die? No more suffering and all that jazz? If this is what death was actually like, Steve demanded a refund.

Sam brought him down the hall to another room, this one far smaller than the lavish entry. There was a desk in front of two large windows to his left. At least, Steve assumed they were windows; dusty curtains were drawn tightly shut over them. Sam led him to the other wall, where two plush chairs were pulled close to a large fireplace. After he had been ushered into one of the chairs, sinking into the soft cushions, Steve watched Sam begin to build a fire.

As he did, a small black and red footstool _scampered_ into the room, shoving itself underneath Steve’s feet, “Ah. I love having people’s ankles on my shoulders.” This one at least didn’t seem to have a face, just a voice. Steve didn’t a chance to respond, because next thing he knew Sam was speaking from the fireplace, “Shut up, DP.”

“Just speaking the truth,” the footstool responded happily.

“I can’t believe you’re actually helping this… this stranger. We have no idea who he is. He could be an assassin.” The clock had followed them to the study and had somehow gotten up onto the mantle. While it was obvious she was talking to Sam, her eyes never left Steve, as if she was daring him to utter a word.

Sam snorted, piling logs into the fireplace, “Natasha, really. No one even knows we’re out here. They’ve all forgotten about us.”

“You don’t know that,” She, Natasha, turned finally to look at the candelabra. After a moment she sighed and jumped down next to him, “You know, for a candle, you’re terrible at making a fire.”

“ _Excuse_ you. I was doing just fine.” Sam didn’t really sound too offended and he actually stepped back and allowed Natasha to fix his sloppy job. Once she had stepped back again, he lit the logs aflame and grinned, placing his ‘hands’ where his hips would be. “Not bad.”

The moment the fire was established Steve sank further into the chair, eyes drifting shut as his body gradually filled once more with heat. Slowly, painfully, he regained feeling in his fingers and toes. He’d never known that a roaring fire would feel so nice, that he would ever appreciate the flickering flames more than he did now.

Peggy rolled in a few moments later on a cart, a single teacup filled with steaming liquid and a plate of biscuits accompanying her, “Drink up, dear. And have as many biscuits as you like. You need to regain your strength.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile gratefully, taking the teacup and saucer. He had only just brought the cup to his lips when another voice nearly made him choke on the hot tea.

“How interesting! What a new feeling!”

Steve nearly dropped the cup, pulling it back to arm’s length to examine it with wide eyes.

Another face. Another living object. Steve wasn’t sure what was going on anymore, since it seemed he wasn’t actually dead. Maybe he was hallucinating? The cold had really messed with his head, or maybe he slipped and fell and hit his head. This face had wide blue eyes and a grin that would stretch from ear to ear if, well, if teacups had ears.

“Do you wish to see a trick?” He looked about as excited as a puppy, so Steve just shakily nodded an affirmative. The teacup squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. The tea began to bubble up, as if someone was blowing air into the hot liquid.

“Thor! You must be polite! We have a guest; he requires our services. Now hush, let him finish his tea.” Peggy looked stern, frowning in disapproval at the cup’s actions.

Thor quieted down, face smoothing over until you almost couldn’t tell it had appeared at all.

Shakily, and only because he really was desperate for this tea, Steve finished his serving before setting the cup back on the tray. Taking a biscuit, he scrutinized it carefully before eating it. Who knows what else could be alive in this crazy castle.

“Who are you? From what land do you come from?” The teacup sprang back to life, hopping to the end of the tray and trying to get a better look at Steve.

Steve blinked slowly, “Ah… My name is Steve… Steve Rogers. I live in a village nearby. I was in the woods… I got lost. And this storm started up and this is the first shelter I found.”

“Poor dear. You must have been freezing. You’ll be alright now. You can rest up here and when the storm lets up, hopefully you’ll be okay to travel.” Peggy smiled at him.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, “He better be. He can’t stay long. Master will be furious. You know it.”

“No harm ever came in offering up hospitality.” Peggy returned, sending a frown Natasha’s way.

Sam opened his mouth to say something and then froze, eyes locked behind Steve at something that obviously scared the wits out of him. He gulped and shut his mouth, backing up a bit.

The other objects also fell silent, even Thor, and dropped their eyes to the floor. DP wriggled until he was no longer under Steve’s feet, but under the chair completely, muttering curses.

Steve froze, immediately catching on to their discomfort. He held his breath, straining his ears to hear something, anything that would tell him what they were all so afraid of.

There. A whisper of cloth on cloth, the near-silent pad of feet upon the floor. Slow and calculated. Beneath that, he could hear a faint growl every few seconds. As if with each exhale, someone, or something, was audibly releasing their anger. The sounds grew just barely louder, as a figure drew closer and closer to Steve’s chair.

He was afraid to look, afraid to see whatever it was that was approaching. But when the sound of movement stopped, and all that was left was the growls, he forced himself to turn, slowly, to see what had come. With that turn of his head, Steve’s blue eyes met the hard grey of storm clouds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a few days late, my weekend was super busy. Hope you guys enjoy the next chapter!

The figure before him was that of a man, the light of the fire absorbed completely by his black clothing. The torn, crumpled shirt stretched tight across his chest, accentuating his shoulders and highlighting the muscle underneath. The sleeves were long, and the left bulged unnaturally, as if something was bunched up underneath, and the man’s left hand was covered with a dark glove. His pants weren’t exactly baggy, but they hung lower on his hips and were tucked into black boots.

His eyes were steely, as cold as the stone that made up the castle. Brows were drawn down close together in a glare, and dark brown hair fell across his face. It was longer, skimming his shoulders in messy tangles. He would look normal, if unkempt, except for the half mask that covered his nose and mouth, almost like a muzzle.

The man had been hunched over, in order to make eye contact with Steve as he was sitting in the chair. Now he pulled himself up to his full height, towering over Steve without breaking eye contact.

Steve jumped up, turning to face the newcomer. By doing this, he came to realize that the man was actually shorter than Steve was. Despite this, his pounding heart didn’t calm.

“Who are you?” The words came out a growl, muffled only slightly by the mask over the man’s mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Master—“ Sam moved a step closer, eyes sliding over to settle on the masked man.

The man briefly turned his attention to Sam, snarling, “I didn’t ask you.”

While Steve wasn’t the center of attention, he took the opportunity to back up a step, moving to go around the back of the chair, in hopes that he could make it to the door.

But the man’s eyes snapped back to him, freezing him in place, “I will not ask again.”

“I… I’m Steve. Ah—Steve Rogers. I’m from the village nearby… I got stuck in the storm, and found this castle. _Your_ castle. I just wanted to get out of the storm, I swear. I didn’t want to steal anything. As soon as the storm lets up, I’ll be out of here, I promise.” Steve held up his hands, showing that he wasn’t hiding anything and not threatening anyone.

“ _You’re not welcome here_. _Get out. Now._ ”

Steve nodded quickly. This guy looked like he could kill him without a second thought, with no remorse. And it looked like he really wanted to. His eyes flicked briefly to the man’s left arm, trying to figure out why the sleeve looked so different compared to the other. He could see something sharp pressing against the fabric in several places, though he couldn’t tell for sure what they were.

“What are you staring at?!”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’ll leave.” He had warmed up a significant amount and he hoped he could make it back to his village without freezing to death. At this point, the storm might have let up. Or so he thought, until a crack of thunder followed a great flash of lightning from outside.

“Master, he’ll die if he goes out in that storm.” Peggy stepped forward now too.

The man turned to her, looking about ready to yell at her like he did Sam. But then Natasha stepped forward, looking stern and earnest. “James,” she said something to him, sharp and quiet and… in a different language. Russian, maybe?

Staring at her, seeming shocked by whatever it was that she said, he responded in the same language, a growl still in his undertone.

Natasha said something again, putting emphasis on certain words, though Steve couldn’t understand any of it.

The man, the master, James stared for a moment before turning, stalking back out the door, “You may stay until the storm lets up. Then I want you out of here.”

Steve nods quickly, “Yes, sir.”

James briefly glances back at him before disappearing from sight.

“Well. That was… surprising.” Sam said slowly, eyes on the doorway.

Peggy smiled faintly, as if she was pleased about something, “Indeed. Well, dear. You need to rest. Who knows when this storm will let up. Come now, we’ll get you in some new clothes. You’ll catch a cold in those wet rags.”

Steve hesitantly followed the teapot, candelabra, and clock up the stairs and up to the east wing. As they passed through the entry, Steve couldn’t help but eye the door longingly. He wanted to get out as soon as he could. The master of the castle was… unstable to say the least. Steve didn’t exactly feel safe inside the castle.

Led down a long hallway, with doors on either side and nothing on the walls, Steve was brought to a room at the end of the hall. They prompted him inside and left after telling him to call if he needed anything.

The room was… large. Certainly bigger than the one he had at home. Against one wall was a four-poster bed, clad with fresh sheets in red and blue hues. They look like they’ve never been touched, but look as if they’d been cleaned just that morning. Against the other wall stood an armoire, intricate designs carved into the rich wood. The windows in this room were also covered by deep red curtains, blocking out all light that would otherwise flood the room.

As soon as the door closed, the armoire jolted to life, “Kid, you look like a drowned rat!”

Steve blinked blearily, too tired at this point to really care that there were _more_ talking objects, “Uh…”

“Let’s get you in some new clothes!” Eyes appeared at the top of the armoire, a mouth beneath it. The armoire scrutinized Steve, looking him up and down and muttering to himself. “That kind of complexion? Blonde hair? Ah! Blue eyes! These will make those beauties _pop_! In a good way, of course.” The doors to the armoire swung open and a navy blue shirt and black pants were thrown in Steve’s direction. “Oh,” the voice adopted a hint of a smirk, “you’ll probably need these, too.” A fresh pair of boxers was tossed on top of the clothes as well.

Steve blushed furiously, turning and going through another door next to the bed. As hoped, it led to a bathroom. After a careful inspection to make sure nothing in this room spoke or had eyes, Steve stepped out of his cold, wet clothes and into the fresh ones. He sighed in relief, feeling warmer already. Unsure of what to do with his dirty laundry, Steve picked the small pile up and went back into the bedroom.

“Just toss those things in there. We’ll get them washed up for you.” The armoire motioned to a basket in the corner. “I’m Clint by the way. Fashion and makeup extraordinaire. At your service.”

Steve put his clothes in the basket, turning to look at Clint, “Nice to meet you, I suppose… I’m Steve.”

“What’s a normal person like you doing in an enchanted castle like this?”

Steve frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed, “Enchanted?”

“Well, duh. Why else would the furniture be talking?”

He scrubbed his face, feeling his head spin uncomfortably, “I was hoping this was all just a dream, to be honest.”

“Nope,” Clint popped the ‘p’, “completely real. Definite reality. No hoax.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Any reason it’s enchanted?”

Clint nodded, at least as well as an armoire can nod, “Yes… But it’s not my place to say. You’d have to ask the master.”

Steve laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. He couldn’t believe his misfortune. All he wanted was somewhere to wait out the storm. And while he did get that, it was coming with a severe price to his mental health. Not to mention that he was scared out of his wits that that James character would come kill him at any second.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

“I think so… I think I just need to rest…”

“Yeah, man. Go right ahead. No one will bother you.”

“Thanks…” Steve shifted to get more comfortable. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

When he woke, probably a few hours later, the room was quiet. Rain no longer beat on the windows and he only heard the _drip, drip, drip_ of leftover drops. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he panicked for a moment, not recognizing his surroundings. Then, after a moment, memories came trickling back. Hiding from Rumlow, getting stuck in the storm, making it to the castle, and the master… Steve shivered, standing.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Clint’s voice sounded from where the armoire still stood against the opposite wall.

“What time is it? Is the storm passed?” Steve moved over to the window and pulled the blinds open. This caused Clint to make a quiet hissing sound, as though in pain.

“Holy shit. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen daylight. Is it usually that bright? I hate it.”

Steve frowned, glancing back at him, “Is there a reason all the shades are drawn all the time?”

Clint gave a kind of shrug, “The master wants them shut. So they stay shut.”

He looked back out the window, peering through the wet glass. It looked much brighter than it had originally, and the rain had stopped. Sighing in relief, Steve moved to the door.

“Leaving already?”

Steve turned briefly to look at Clint, “I don’t think I can stand another minute in this castle. No offense.”

“None taken. Go. Be free.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips. That’s when he heard it.

“Steve?”

The familiar voice echoed across the walls, sounding unsure.

“Tony…” Steve hurried down the hallway. He could already hear the tell-tale clatter of Sam, Peggy, and Natasha going to the front room. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he looked to the door, just to be sure.

There he was. Bundled up under a cloak, with Steve’s lost one slung over his arm. Tony had bags under his eyes, and his clothes looked damp, as if he had gone out before the storm had completely stopped. When he caught sight of Steve, be perked up, “Steve! I send you to get donuts from Pepper, and you go gallivanting off to some castle?”

“Tony, you don’t understand. We have to leave. _Right now_.” Steve took the stairs three at a time, nearly breaking his neck as he slipped on the stone floor at the bottom.

“Jesus, let a guy rest, would you? I’ve been walking around for hours, trying to find your perky little ass.” Tony frowned, looking Steve over as he came closer. Though Steve knew he would never admit it out loud, it was easy to tell that Tony had been worried sick about him. He looked pale, which made the bags under his eyes look heavy and dark. And there was a slight tremor in his hands as he stepped toward Steve.

“There’s no time, we have to get out of here. Before he—“ Before Steve could grab Tony and pull him back out the door, James stepped into view, melting out of the shadows. He looked… livid. Eyes like hard charcoals were locked on Tony, staring him down. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and they shook slightly in anger. He moved like a predator, tense and with purpose, straight toward Tony.

Steve barely had time to breathe a curse before James was grabbing Tony by the throat with his left hand and backing him against the door.

“Why are you here?” The words came out a snarl, barely comprehensible. Fingers flexed, pressing into the soft skin around Tony’s throat.

Tony looked more shocked than anything, eyes wide and staring at James in surprise. His hands flew up to grab at James’ grip on his throat and try to pry him off. “Just picking up Steve here. Play date’s over,” Tony choked out. Leave it to Tony to make jokes when he’s getting attacked.

The joke seemed to have the opposite effect on the master. Instead of it lightening the mood a bit, it actually made him angrier, increasing his pressure until Tony actually made a choked sound and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“ Steve swallowed down whatever fear it was that made him want to run from James, and launched himself at him. Managing to take him by surprise, Steve was able to pull James off of Tony and tackle him to the floor.

James twisted immediately, his whole focus moving to Steve. His hand wrapped around Steve’s bicep and dragged him off, pinning him against the floor with one knee pressed into his stomach. “ _Never_ touch me again.”

“Alright! You won’t have to worry about it! We’ll leave right now!” Steve stared up into steely eyes, trying to get out from underneath the other man. He felt defiant now, in a way. All he wanted to do was leave, and this man was causing so much trouble over it. James couldn’t have just stayed off in whatever shadows he lives in normally.

The knee pressed harder into his stomach, making Steve cough, “ _No._ After this… this little _stunt_ , you won’t be going anywhere.”

“What the hell, man. Get off of him!” Tony’s voice came from somewhere to Steve’s right, drawing James’ attention back to him.

Before James could go after Tony again, Steve grabbed his left arm, the only thing he could really reach. Pain flared up from his hand as something sharp sank into his palm, but he hung on. As expected, James snaps back to Steve, snarling behind his muzzle. “Leave him out of it. I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever you want. But Tony hasn’t done anything. He only came here looking for me, nothing more. He doesn’t want to steal from you or anything. Let him go, and I won’t try to escape.”

“Steve, don’t—“

James’ eyes stayed locked on Steve, assessing. Finally, he pulled his knee up, away from Steve’s stomach. As the other man gasped in desperate breaths, James stood slowly, confusion crossing his face, “You would do that? Give up your own freedom for him?”

Steve nodded gravely, eyes never leaving James’.

“…Very well. You will stay and serve me in my castle. You will not be permitted to leave the grounds under any circumstances. But _he_ must leave.” His eyes flickered briefly to Tony before focusing back on Steve.

Steve sat up, one arm wrapped around his stomach. Chancing a look down at his hand, he saw blood welling up fast from a decent-sized gash in his palm. He fixed James with a glare of his own. “Fine. Deal.”

Tony could only stare in shock, “Steve. What the hell.”

“Just go, Tony.” Steve stumbled to his feet, casting his friend a sad look.

Tony didn’t move. He looked conflicted, watching Steve and briefly shifting his gaze to James as well.

James snapped at him, “Get out!” Before Steve could do anything, he had grabbed Tony by the back of the shirt. The man dragged Tony to the door, and as he did Tony sent Steve a desperate look, “I’ll figure something out.” James threw him out the door, and the heavy wood shut with a _bang_ echoing in finality.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late chapter! I am so sorry I keep making you guys wait, life is hectic right now. I have finals coming up this week, so I've been on a studying rampage. I love you all, and thanks for putting up with me!

James turned to Steve next, hands clenched at his sides and his shoulders bunched up a bit around his neck. He looked like he was trying to control himself, to keep himself from attacking again. “You will use the same room as last night. You are allowed anywhere in the castle, _except_ the West Wing. You are never to go there. Tonight, you will eat with me. I expect you in the dining room at six, sharp. The other servants will show you your duties and show you the rest of the castle.” With that, he stalked back out of the room, back into the darkness.

Steve’s mind filled with rage. This man, whoever the hell he was, thought he could control him. He had nearly killed Tony, but Steve didn’t want to think about that. He hadn’t even touched Steve when he first found him in his study. But Tony… whatever it was that had set James off, Steve wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Steve… What you did… That was very brave.” Peggy’s voice pulled Steve’s attention back out from his thoughts. He turned to look at her, kneeling in front of her as he curled his injured hand in close to his chest.

She watched him, looking impressed and almost fond.

Steve managed a small smile, “It didn’t feel all that brave. I just wanted to protect Tony.”

“You two are close?”

He nodded, “We share a house, in my village. We… understand each other.”

Peggy fixed him with a curious look, “I see.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask her why she was looking at him like he’d just sprouted goat horns, her eyes locked onto his hand, “What happened there?”

“I’m not sure… when I grabbed James, something stabbed me.” Steve frowned, glancing down. He tilted his hand, trying to keep the blood from dripping onto the floor.

Sam hopped closer, not looking surprised at Steve’s injury, “Come on. Let’s get that cleaned up, don’t want it getting infected or anything. Then we can show you around the castle, if you want.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it. But… not right away. I really just want to go back to my room and… think.”

When Sam nodded in understanding, Steve went back up to his room, Sam accompanying him to help with his wound and they went to his bathroom. Steve held his hand underneath the tap and rinsed the injury, hissing quietly in pain. It was pretty deep, but not so deep that it looked like it would need stitches. With Sam’s help, he got it cleaned and disinfected, wrapping it tightly in bandages. What could have possibly done that to him? All he had done was grab James’ arm and it’s not like he wore spiked clothing or could have a knife just sticking out of his flesh. So how the hell did Steve manage to slice himself open?

Once he was all patched up, Sam made sure that Steve didn’t need anything more. Then he slipped out, leaving Steve to himself. Well, mostly to himself. Clint was still there.

“Heard you’re one of us now. Sort of, I guess. You’re still a human. Welcome to the castle.” Clint hobbled over, leaning against the bed and causing the mattress to dip severely.

Steve sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Yeah, well. I didn’t have much choice. He was going to kill Tony.”

“He probably wouldn’t kill him… He gets his bad days, but they’re usually not _that_ bad.”

“That’s no excuse to attack people!” Steve couldn’t help but snap a bit, anger flaring up. It was gone as soon as it had come. Clint hadn’t done anything wrong, he didn’t deserve to get yelled at for something that wasn’t his fault.

Steve settled back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

Clint shook his head, “Don’t worry about it.”

Steve nodded slightly, eyes on the ceiling. “What do you guys usually do around here?”

“Rest. Some try to keep up on cleaning the castle, but they stopped trying after a while. Gave up hope I suppose.”

“’Gave up hope’? Hope for what?”

“To be human again of course!” Clint sighed wistfully, “I can’t imagine how it would be to be human again. Just… amazing. I’d never take it for granted, let me tell you.”

Steve frowned. So they were actually people. Just… stuck in the body of household objects? Like Clint had said last time he asked, he’d have to ask James. And he wasn’t about to do that.

“What about you? You said you’re from a village?”

He nodded, looking over at the armoire. Steve told him about how his life in the village, how he lived with Tony because they were the only ones who didn’t think the other was nuts. Told him about how he loved to read and had exhausted Bruce’s book supply. He even told him all about Rumlow and how the man just didn’t know how to take "no" for an answer.

Steve wasn’t sure how long it is he spoke to Clint, but eventually there was a light knock on the door. The door swung open a fraction and Natasha slid inside. She smiled fondly at Clint but then looked to Steve. “The master is waiting for you to join him for dinner.”

Steve felt a brief flare of courage, “What if I don’t want to eat with him?”

Natasha frowned, gaze intense as she took him in, “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“Well, I don’t want to have dinner with him. He’s a jerk. I don’t like bullies.”

The small clock paused for a beat, sharing a look with Clint. “Alright. I’ll let him know.” She turned and slipped out again, closing the door behind her.

Not two minutes later, he heard fast movement and Sam yelling from down the hall. Footsteps stopped outside his door and then… The first loud bang caused the door to rattle, the second made the screws in the hinges jump out of place, and the third caused the entire door to come crashing down. It kicked up a cloud of dust and there was James on the other side of the threshold, actually looking surprised and a bit sheepish.

James stared at the door that he had just broken down, though his full expression was hidden by the muzzle over his mouth. When he looked up again, it was as if he remembered why he was angry, because his brows pulled together and he stepped around the door, “I thought you were coming down for dinner.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, looking away and clenching his jaw, “I’m not hungry.”

James looked ready to yell again, but Sam spoke, him and Natasha at his heels, “Sir… You need to try to ask nicely.”

He looked down at Sam briefly. His jaw could be seen clenching and unclenching, even under the muzzle. James moved his eyes back to Steve, focusing in on him. After a pause, through what sounded like clenched teeth, he tried again, “Will you come down to dinner?”

“No.” At this point, Steve didn’t care how polite he was about it, he didn’t want to have dinner with this man. Especially not now that he completely knocked his door down.

James turned slightly to give Sam a ‘see?’ look. He was visibly getting more and more frustrated as the ordeal continued.

“ _Gently_.” Natasha insisted from next to Sam, looking stern.

“It… would give me great pleasure… if you were to join me for dinner.”

Sam coughed, “ _please_.”

James narrowed his eyes at him for a second before repeating, “Please.”

“No, thank you.” Steve returned easily, turning his head to look James in the eye as he said it.

He watched the anger flare up in those grey eyes, watched James rear back in his anger and heard the quiet growl escape his throat.

“Then _STARVE_!” James turned on his heel and stormed out. On his way out, he said to Sam, “If he doesn’t eat with me, he doesn’t eat _at all_.” Sam followed him closely, telling him something that Steve didn’t catch.

Steve clenched his jaw angrily, glaring at James’ back as he left. He threw his hands up in the air, yelling after him, “Fucking thanks for breaking my door down!” Standing, he heaved the door up off the floor, propping it up against the wall. He could worry about that later.

Clint whistled lowly, “Daaaaamn. That was intense.”

“You’re telling me.” Steve muttered, putting the hinge screws on the table by his bed. He sighed in frustration, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

Clint slowly propped himself against the bed again, watching Steve, “I know he can come off as an asshole. But… maybe if you got to know him…”

“I don’t _want_ to get to know him! I don’t want anything to do with him!” Steve sat heavily on the edge of his bed. The only thing he really wanted was to go home, to be away from this maniac. He laid back on the bed, draping an arm over his eyes.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time passed before his stomach rumbled loudly.

Clint chuckled, “Sounds like someone’s hungry.”

“A bit…”

“Word of advice: just tell Peggy. She’ll feed you no matter what it is the master said.”

Steve nodded, getting to his feet, “Thanks, Clint.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve smiled faintly, leaving his room. He padded as quietly as he could out of the room, not wanting to alert James and get in a shouting match. Once he got to the kitchens, he looked around for Peggy, following the sound of clattering dishes, “Peggy?”

“Over here, dear!”

Steve followed the sound of her voice to the sinks, where she was ordering the cleaning of a stack of dishes.

She smiled up at him, “Do you need something, Steve?”

“Yeah, actually… Would it be too much trouble to ask for something to eat?”

“Not at all! I’d be happy to get you something.”

“Even after what the master said?” Sam’s voice came from the kitchen door. He must have followed Steve down.

Peggy shot him a stony glare, “We can’t just let him starve. I won’t have it.”

Sam grinned, “I know. Then how would you like to take your tour, Steve?”

With a nod, Steve agreed, “That would be great.” His stomach reminded him of his priorities, of course, giving a hungry rumble.

Peggy tilted her chin up defiantly, “I’ll get some food started. You need to eat. Go wait in the dining room. You can eat first and then you can take a tour.”

Sam led him out to the dining room. While Steve walked around the room, taking in his surroundings, Sam watched him from the table, “You alright?”

“Fine as I can be, I guess.” Steve went to the windows, the shades drawn like everywhere else in the castle. He pulled them open, allowing light to flood the room. If he was going to be trapped in this castle, he was at least going to make it livable. Turning, he realized just how hard that was going to be. By opening the blinds, he had highlighted a thick layer of dust that covered every possible surface. This was going to take some work.

“Oh, shit.” Sam saw the same thing he did, looking around in distaste, “It’s been awhile since I’ve been in here. Or since anyone’s been in here, it seems like. I’m going to get this cleaned up. Like right now, because this is just nasty. People eat in here.” He jumped off the table, leaving the room in a rush. He left marks in the dust where he had been standing.

Steve sighed, turning back to the window. It really was a beautiful view, the trees came right up to the wall that surrounded the castle. He could see a courtyard that had at some point become overgrown with vines and weeds. Perhaps he could tackle that first, get some flowers planted and maybe start a garden.

The sound of movement behind him caught his attention and when he turned around, there was a group of feather dusters moving around the room, cleaning furiously. One was stood up on top of the table with Sam, ordering the others, “And make sure you get into every corner! This is at _least_ five years of dust! Clean it so well that even Aunt May would be impressed!”

Sam flashed Steve a grin, “Steve, meet one of our heads of staff, Peter.”

The feather duster next to him turned around, smiling, “Nice to meet you.”

Steve pulled out one of the chairs, sitting down so he could be closer to eye-level with them, “You too. Seems like you run a pretty tight ship around here.”

“I try. Got it grained into me, from dear old Aunt May, God rest her soul.” Peter bowed his head a bit.

Steve smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It was years ago.” Peter went back to ordering the rest of his team, helping to dust the table off. “DP! How many times do I have to tell you to leave my crew alone! They don’t need you slobbering all over after they just cleaned!”

DP had a grin in his voice, “You know I can’t help it, baby boy. I just _love_ maid costumes. Speaking of, your ass looks fine today.”

“I’m a feather duster, you dimwit. I don’t have an ass.”

“Oh, I saw your ass before the curse took over. I _know_ it’s fine.”

Peggy rolled in with her cart, this time with it stacked high with food. The delicious smell of soups and sandwiches filled the room, making Steve sit up straighter and scoot himself closer to the table. He hadn’t realized how hungry he really was until he was presented with food.

She seemed to notice and smiled somewhat sadly. Peggy really looked concerned for him and was happy to set him up with a double helping of fresh chicken noodle soup and ham sandwiches.

As he ate, he discussed his ideas with Peggy, Sam, and Peter. How he wanted to open up the windows and get some fresh air circulating through the castle, since it was extremely stuffy. He told them his plans for the courtyard as well and they happily agreed to help him. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad here, as long as Steve had as little interaction with James as possible. Of course, he would still miss Tony, the two had been friends for years after all. He wondered what Tony would do, as he had said that he would figure something out. If that was even possible. But if anyone could figure out how to get him out of this situation, it would be Tony.

Once he had his fill, there was no soup and just two sandwiches leftover. Steve sat back in his chair, humming happily, “Peggy… that was amazing. Best meal I’ve had in years.”

Peggy grinned, “Thank you.” She nodded to his hand, “If that’s alright, would you like to take your tour?”

Steve wriggled his fingers a bit. He couldn’t quite move his palm, without stretching the skin and hurting himself worse. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

Sam spread his candlesticks wide, grinning, “Let’s get started then.” He jumped down from the table, leading the way out to the main room again. “Now, it may seem overwhelming at first, but believe me, you’ll get a hang of it pretty fast.”

“Only if he’s a fast learner. And for your sake, I hope you are.” Natasha was up on one of the banisters to the stairs, watching him. She jumped down from her perch, going over to him, “You’ve got guts. Not everyone is willing to go against the master like that.”

Sam nudged his leg, laughing, “That’s basically Natasha’s stamp of approval. Consider yourself lucky.”

Steve smiled faintly, “I do. Absolutely.”

“Yeah, well. Just don’t get on my bad side.” Natasha’s lips twitched, almost a smile.

He nodded, “Of course not, ma’am.”

Sam laughed, “So. Where do you want to start?”

Steve glanced toward the stairs, “What’s in the West Wing?”

Sam and Peggy froze and Natasha turned to him, eyeing him with a frown. Even DP, now lounging on a nearby chair, looked over in interest. Sam shook his head quickly, “Nothing. Nothing at all. Pretty boring, actually. There are much more interesting places in the castle.”

“Like?”

“Ah… you can see the gardens up close. There’s a library, a ballroom, uh…”

Steve perked up, “A library?”

Sam nodded enthusiastically and repeated, “A library! Come on, we’ll show you!” He started off toward a doorway, away from the stairs.

Peggy and Natasha followed him, Steve lagging behind a bit as Sam continued to talk excitedly.

DP watched him, muttering to himself, “I know he’s acting odd. What do you think he’s up to? … _Really_? How do you think that’s going to play out? …Yeah, I agree. I mean, if we interrupt now, we’ll fuck up the plot.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! This chapter's on time! The remaining chapters should be on time as well, as school is coming to a close this week. Thanks for dealing with those few crazy weeks that I was late. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

He waited until they were through the doorway, before backing up to the stairs again. Steve looked up the expanse of stairs, and all of a sudden they looked far more imposing. He gripped the bannister with his good hand, taking a deep breath before letting his curiosity get the best of him and send him up the stairs. Instead of turning to the right, to go up the stairs to his room, Steve went to the left. At the top of those stairs, it was considerably darker, a torn curtain shifting in a silent breeze.

Steve continued up the stairs, taking quiet, slow steps to make sure the floorboards wouldn’t creak and give him away. He brushed past the curtain at the top of the stairs and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dark room. Turning, he jerked and nearly gave himself a heart attack. Just his reflection. He looked at himself in the shattered mirror, pieces missing here and there. Steve frowned, walking further into the room.

As soon as he could see more clearly, Steve took in the room. It was a disaster, chairs flipped over and tables smashed. A few more mirrors lined the walls, the glass in them smashed and the shards littering the floor. Debris was spread across the room, making it near impossible to navigate. Steve stepped closer to the wall to investigate a painting. All he could really make out were the grey eyes, crinkled in the corners in happiness; the rest was torn. As if someone had gone at it with a knife.

Steve frowned, pushing up a large shred of the painting, trying to see the face it had once portrayed. But movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder and what he saw took his breath away.

On the other side of the room, stood James with his back to Steve. He reached behind his head, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head. This revealed the smooth skin underneath and Steve found himself momentarily distracted by lean, shifting muscles. His eyes traveled up from the waistband of the other man’s pants, up to his shoulders.

An odd growth on James’ left shoulder grabbed his attention and he focused in on it. When he realized what exactly it was, he felt nothing but shock.

Sticking out of James’ shoulder was a vibrant red rose, a shock of color against the paleness of his skin and the darkness of his hair. The thorn-riddled stem of the rose wound down and around James’ arm, pressing into his skin and stabbing the air. It was like the rose was a part of him, like the old statues Steve would see that had overgrown with weeds. The plant looked embedded in his skin, the skin around the edges raw and red and scarred.

It struck Steve with a hint of a memory. It took him a moment, but then he remembered: Tony’s story.

“Oh shit.” Steve breathed.

Just a hair too loud.

James whipped around, looking shocked for a second before his expression melted into anger. Underneath the sudden flare of fear, Steve felt a flicker of disappointment that he didn’t have time to pause and admire the other man’s chest and abdominals. “Why did you come here?”

“I… I’m sorry… I just—“ Steve moved to put one of the few intact tables between him and James.

“I told you never to come here!” James yelled, throwing the table to the side.

Steve jumped back, trying to get to the door without tripping over anything, “I didn’t mean any harm, really—“

“GET OUT!”

He turned, nearly falling over a tipped over chair. Steve hurried out the door and down the steps. Even out here he could hear James yelling.

In his rush to the main door, he went right past Sam, Peggy, and Natasha, who called after him. He didn’t bother to look back, though, just kept running. Right out the gate and into the woods.

Steve ran and ran, ducking past branches and pushing his way through bushes. Some voice in the back of his head told him to slow down, before he gets really lost and can’t find his way out. But he couldn’t focus on it, could only keep replaying James’ voice in his head. _Get out. Get out. Get out_. And his arm… the rose… the image was seared into his mind’s eye, latching on with all its might.

He only stopped when his chest grew tight and his breath started coming in sharp wheezes. Steve stumbled to a stop, leaning heavily against a tree. He couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced an asthma attack. Bracing his hands on his knees, he tucked his head low and tried to take deep, calming breaths.

When a branch snapped somewhere to his left, panic seized his heart, making his breathing worse. Steve lifted his head, looking around as he took in rasping lungful’s of air. He could hear something moving just out of sight, somewhere in the darkness of the trees ahead of him. When the growling started, he thought James had followed him all the way out here. But when the first few wolves appeared, Steve knew his situation was much worse than he’d thought.

Steve searched in distress for some kind of weapon, even as his head spun. He snatched up a branch, holding it in front of him and ready to swing it like a bat to hit the predators if they came closer. However, Steve made the mistake of grabbing the wood with his bandaged hand, and the desperate movement tore the wound open again. Despite the flash of pain, when one jumped at him, he swung and clipped it, but another leaped at him immediately after and grabbed the branch, ripping it out of his grasp and dragging it severely against the gash in his hand.

As his vision started to blacken around the edges, one of the wolves sank its teeth into his pants leg, tripping him up and dragging him down. He hit the ground hard, crying out as he kicked at the wolf by his feet.

Then he heard something else, the sound of someone running across the hard ground. Boots appeared in his vision and a shadow fell over him, as someone stopped to stand above him.

Lifting his head, he saw James, shirt and cloak back on. Even through the clothing, however, Steve could see the tenseness of his muscles and the rigid way he was holding himself. In each hand he held a blade, hands clenched tightly around them but comfortably at the same time, as if they were old friends.

The wolves fell upon him in mere seconds, trying to get around James to Steve. But James was fast. He cut at them and snarled, not letting one wolf take even a step past him closer to Steve. One launched itself at James, claws raking down his right arm and tearing his shirt. A knife sank into its flank in retaliation. Howls and cries faded until there was only the sound of Steve’s slight wheezing and James’ heavy breaths.

Steve’s vision swam, and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was James turning around to look at him, face still filled with rage.

When he came to, Steve’s head was pounding and he was cold, but he could breathe normally again. Slowly, he pushed himself to sit up, assessing himself for injuries. His hand felt like it was burning, and the bandage was stained red with blood from his newly-reopened wound.

Tucking his hand close to his chest, Steve looked up. James had crumpled, and was lying a few feet from him. He was just a ragged pile of clothes, hair falling into his face. Steve shifted closer, watching him closely. Not seeing any rise or fall to his chest, an icy spike of panic shot through him. As he watched, focusing in on his chest, he eventually saw the tiny inhales and exhales. With a sigh of relief, Steve sat back on his heels. He pulled himself to his feet, and saw the blood pooling on the ground at James’ side.

Steve knew he had to get James back to the castle, knew that the other man’s wounds were far worse than his own. Biting his lip, Steve shifted around to get James up on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Ignoring his throbbing hand, he stumbled to stand up straight again.

Hobbling, he started back the way he had seen James come from. The other man was heavy, and Steve could feel the thorns from the rose pressing into shoulder, neck, and chest. By the time he had made it to the castle, he was breathing heavy, almost wheezing, and his skin was on fire where the thorns were pressing in.

Sam saw him through the window, where he had probably been watching for either of them. He opened the door, jumping down the steps, “What happened?”

“Long story… Just get me a bowl of warm water, some towels, scissors, and bandages. Lots of them.” Steve took James to the study, where Peggy started a fire and eased him into the large chair in front of the fireplace.

The moment he got James in the chair, Steve’s knees trembled and he dropped to the floor.

Peggy and Natasha were at his side at once, Sam coming in with the cart and the things Steve had asked for.

Steve straightened his back, blowing out a slow breath. He needed to take care of James, then he could take care of himself. So he waved away their concern and took the scissors off the cart, using them to cut away the sleeve of James’ shirt, where the blood was thickest. Underneath the cloth, Steve found deep claw marks, still oozing blood.

James was still taking only tiny breaths, and Steve frowned. The muzzle was probably making it hard for him to breathe. He pushed himself up further, hands reaching up toward the mask. As his fingers brushed against it, James’ eyes snapped open and he jumped to his feet. Faster than Steve could react, James had him by the throat, slamming him back against the wall and making Steve see stars. His hands flew up, grabbing James’ wrists, panic spiking through him. James’ wasn’t squeezing hard enough to completely cut off his air supply, but enough that Steve’s blood was streaked with adrenaline. He could faintly hear Sam and Peggy yelling from somewhere behind James, but Steve didn’t look away. With such close proximity, Steve could see James shaking, eyes alight with anger. But there was something else, underneath the rage. Frightened of what, Steve couldn’t imagine. The message was clear, though: don’t touch the mask.

“James. It’s just me. It’s Steve.” Steve squeezed his wrists lightly, locking eyes with him. He felt the other man’s grip loosen fractionally. “I won’t touch the mask. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” After a moment, James blinked quickly, stumbling back and releasing his grip on Steve’s throat. As James backed up to collapse into the chair again and hung his head, Steve coughed, rubbing his throat and taking a moment to calm his pounding heart. Finally, he stepped back over to the chair, dipping one of the towels in the water and letting it soak for a moment. As he was waiting, he glanced up at James, who was avoiding eye contact with him, “I’m going to clean the cuts on your arm, alright?”

When James didn’t respond, Steve wrung out the towel. He touched James’ wrist lightly, but the moment he tried to start cleaning the tears in his skin, James snarled and pulled his arm close to his chest, “That _hurts_!”

“It wouldn’t hurt if you just held still!” Steve shouted back, having had enough. He was so fed up at this point, and this jerk couldn’t just let him help without yelling.

James stared for a second, seeming shocked that Steve had lashed back at him, “This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you hadn’t run away!”

“If you hadn’t scared me, I wouldn’t have run away!” He didn’t know how anyone could be this blind to the way their actions affect others, and how yelling at people doesn’t really make someone feel like hanging out in a dark, creepy castle.

The other man sat back briefly, eyes on Steve. After a moment of thought, he perked up, having thought of something, “Well you shouldn’t have been in the West Wing.”

“ _You_ should learn to control your temper.”

James actually looked a bit ashamed at that, looking away from Steve completely.

After a beat, Steve took his wrist again and giving a warning, “This’ll sting a little.” This time, James only flinched when Steve started to clean his wounds. Steve paused long enough to give him a chance to gather himself, before continuing.

“…Thank you. For saving my life.” Steve glanced up at him momentarily before looking back down at his work.

In his peripheral vision, he saw James look over at him in surprise. Steve assumed he would just ignore the comment, but then James mumbled, “You’re welcome.”

Steve smiled softly to himself. When James’ wound was clean, he bandaged it up and sat back. Now to work on his own injuries. He started with his hand, carefully unwrapping the soiled bandages and cleaning out the gash again. Steve was minutely aware of James watching him as he did this, a strange look in his eyes and his brows drawn together.

Once his hand was wrapped again, Steve checked where the rose thorns had pressed against his skin. They hadn’t gone as deep as the cut in his palm, which he’d have to bind again, too. Even so, Steve was sure they would scar, they were deep enough for that. He cleaned them out, and covered them with bandages, doing the same with his hand.

“You got hurt?

James’ concern surprised him, and it must have shown on his face, because when Steve tried to meet his gaze, the brunet looked away.

“It’s nothing… Yours was way worse.” Steve assured him, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Steve couldn’t be sure, but James’ eyes seemed to soften and Steve felt something in his chest tighten. Not another asthma attack. Something gentler, brighter. Whatever it was, there was definitely something there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's the next chapter for you all. Thank you all for your kind words, they make me feel so proud of this fic. I'm glad you're all enjoying it, and I hope you continue to do so. Stick with me, we're half way finished!
> 
> Also, my lovely assistant reminded me that we have a playlist that goes along with this fic. It can be found on Spotify here: https://play.spotify.com/user/alysebeemster/playlist/5hoViPFvQn1tYxQ2fUsHVz

Over the next few days, Steve and James grew more comfortable around each other. Steve was free to roam the grounds, and he spent most of his time outside in the gardens, getting his fill in of the nice weather before it became too cold. Sometimes he liked to come out here and sketch the rose garden or the castle staff, he even had a sketch of James that he was working on. He didn’t plan on being out long today, however; there was a chill in the air and the skies covered in sad-looking clouds. It had snowed the night before and the white fluff covered everything, muffling the sound of his footsteps.

On this particular day, he was out in his cloak, DP running around his feet and chasing Peter through the bushes. He’d gotten used to the two coming with him when Peter wasn’t working. Steve had learned that Peter was the youngest in the castle, and he enjoyed taking short walks with Steve. Naturally, DP always joined once he heard Peter was tagging along, and the two got along fairly well. Peter would act annoyed at first, but soon he was running around and goofing off with DP.

When DP launched himself at Peter, who had been hiding out in a bush, and bowled him over so bad the two went rolling through the snow, Steve couldn’t help but break into laughter. He’d never had siblings and was too weak when he was young to play with the other children, so he’d never really experienced this kind of stuff. He found that it lightened his heart a little, making his stay here a lot more bearable.

Of course, it hadn’t been nearly as bad lately. James had gotten a better hold of his temper and would check in on Steve every so often. Now, Steve could see the other man up on the balcony, watching him with Natasha and Sam at his side, speaking to him.

He couldn’t really say how he felt about James now. Steve knew that the way the man had reacted a few weeks back had been way out of line. But Steve also didn’t know nearly enough about James to be able to judge him fairly.

Peggy had told him that he used to not be as… vicious as Steve had experienced. She said he used to be a very kind boy, loved dancing and learning. Then, when the castle became enchanted, he had drawn into himself in what she had described as a sort of defense mechanism.

The workers always looked hopeful and happy that Steve was there. No one would tell him why that was and he hadn’t yet found a good time to ask James. If that time would even come.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw James motioning, trying to get his attention. He turned to look up at him, raising an eyebrow in question. The other man’s eyes were alight, little crinkles appearing at the edges as if he was smiling behind his mask. James made the motion again, beckoning Steve inside.

Steve, surprised, told Peter and DP that he was going inside. James had never really requested his company, not since that first day that went to hell. Whatever it was he wanted, it must have been important. So Steve headed inside, meeting James at the foot of the grand staircase.

“There’s something I want to show you.” Steve followed James down a hallway he hadn’t seen before, one that was only decorated with a bench against one wall and a stone gargoyle at the mouth of the hall. The other wall is made completely of windows, the shades drawn open on these, as had happened to most of the windows in the castle since Steve had arrived.

James opened the door a crack then seemed to catch himself, closing it again. He turned to Steve, a strange look in his eyes, “First… you have to close your eyes.”

Steve gave him a skeptical look, holding his gaze.

“It’s a surprise.” He insisted, until Steve obliged, eyes sliding shut. He could sense James waving a hand in front of his face, making sure his eyes were completely closed. Though they had gotten along better lately, they still didn’t trust each other completely, not even with simple surprises.

Steve heard the other man open the doors again, then take his hands and lead him inside, “Can I open them yet?”

“No, no, no, not yet! Wait here.” James dropped his hands again and Steve could hear his footsteps echo off the walls. They must have been in a large space, judging by the sound. He heard the swish of curtains opening and felt the sun warm on his face.

James took a moment before he told Steve, “Alright, now.”

Steve opened his eyes to see the largest library he had ever seen in his entire life. About as large as the entry, the ceilings towered overhead and there must have been hundreds, if not thousands of books there. Two grand spiral staircases on either side of the room lead up to the second floor, and smaller staircases led up to the third floor. Library ladders allowed access to every book, no matter how high up.

The one wall held a fireplace as well, similar to the one in the study, and two large armchairs were placed neatly in front of it, ready for use.

“I’ve never seen so many books in all my life.” Steve breathed, looking around in utter awe.

“Do you like it?” James almost seemed unsure, desperate to know that he had done something good.

Steve smiled at him, “I love it!”

His eyes brightened, corners crinkling again, “Then it’s yours!”

“This whole library… mine? James… thank you. I can’t say that enough, this is amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Please… Call me Bucky.”

Steve blinked, looking over at him, “Bucky?”

He nodded slightly, eyes cast down toward the floor. The usually still man shifted, shuffling his feet like a toddler who just asked for a candy bar.

Steve smiled softly, “Alright. Bucky.”

James, Bucky, looked up at him, seeming almost shocked by Steve’s easy agreement to use the name. Then his eyes crinkled again and his shoulders visibly relaxed. He was happy.

Later, as Steve was exploring the library and Bucky sitting in one of the armchairs, watching him, Steve suggested they have dinner together tonight. He pretended to be nonchalant about it, looking at a book as he said it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky perk up, lifting his chin from where it was resting in his palm, “Oh?”

“Yeah… I mean, I eat downstairs and talk with Sam and Peggy and them. But… you never come down. It’s your castle. I don’t want to keep you from eating in your own dining room.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, “I assumed you would like space to yourself…”

Steve finally turned to look at him, giving him a smile, “I’d love the company, actually.”

The other seemed excited about this, looking up at Steve eagerly, “We will dine together, then.”

When dinner came, Steve went to the dining room to find Bucky sitting at the head of the table, looking unsure. Once Steve stepped inside, the brunet straightened, focus immediately on Steve, “You came.”

“Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?” Steve sat in the chair that Sam pulled out for him, at the other head of the table. At the center of the table was a large vase of roses, with the roses blocking Steve’s view of everything below Bucky’s eyes. He blinked, leaning to the side a bit to give Bucky a confused look, “Uh…”

Bucky jerked a little, looking upset and uncomfortable, “I only ask that you don’t move to see around the roses, and you do not get up unless told you can do so.”

Steve frowned, ready to argue, until Bucky looked up, giving him a desperate look. Steve’s will crumbled immediately and he straightened until the roses covered the lower half of Bucky’s face again, “Alright.”

Peggy came out with the cart, bowls of chowder and goblets of wine. She gave them their food, smiling encouragingly at Bucky and giving Steve a nod in greeting. Then she joined Sam and Natasha up on the mantle, whispering amongst themselves.

Steve flashed Bucky a smile, starting to eat. He was only a few bites in when he partially saw Bucky’s hands moving up to his face. Over the gentle crackle of the fire burning nearby, Steve could hear him fiddling with something. Then Bucky’s muzzle was placed on the table next to him, his hands shaking slightly.

Steve’s hit with the realization that Bucky _really_ doesn’t want Steve to see whatever’s under the muzzle. He frowned, thinking as he ate. There must be some reason for it, though. Some reasoning behind him wearing the muzzle in the first place. But no matter how hard he thought, Steve just couldn’t think of anything that would make anyone want to wear a muzzle. Maybe someone else put it on him, he thought, and he now only removes it to eat. He wondered if the man slept in it as well, and how uncomfortable that might be.

Steve was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of Peggy clearing her throat pointedly. But when he looked over to see what he had done wrong, if Bucky had asked him something and Steve had been too deep inside his own head to notice, Peggy had her eyes on Bucky. He followed her gaze to see that the other man was slowing from his ravenous eating habits, bits of potato covering the table around his bowl.

When Bucky lifted his head to look at her in confusion, Steve saw Peggy nod towards himself, as if reminding Bucky that he had company.

He’s proven right, when Bucky’s eyes slid over to him next. He mumbled a ‘sorry’ and ate slower, neater.

Steve was too dumbfounded to respond, though, caught off guard by the sound of Bucky’s voice in the purest form he’d heard as of yet. Usually it’s muffled by the muzzle now laying on the table. It’s raspy, but smooth at the same time. Deep. He wanted to listen to it all day.

“Steve?” Jesus, he wanted Bucky to say his name more.

He suddenly realized he’s still staring and that now Bucky is staring back, confused and concerned. Steve felt his face heat up and looked down at his food quickly, “Sorry. Got distracted.”

“By what?”

That was an excellent question with a very awkward answer. Steve flailed helplessly for a moment, trying to think of an excuse.

“I’m sure he was just thinking about all the books he’s got to read now, thanks to you, sir.” Sam piped up.

Steve cast him a grateful look, receiving a wink in return, “I can’t thank you enough for that library. It’s the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Bucky’s eyes crinkled in happiness, and Steve could just about see the corners of his mouth pulled up in a smile, over the bundle of roses in front of him, “I’m glad you like it. Have you always liked reading?”

“Since I was young, yeah. My mother, Sarah, used to read to me, before she got ill. Then I would read to her, until she passed away.” Steve knew what was coming. The sympathy. He’d heard enough apologies to last him two lifetimes, so he continued on, “I like drawing as well.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly at his change of topic, but didn’t question him, which Steve appreciated more than he could ever express. “I noticed you drawing in the garden.”

Steve nodded, “The flowers are gorgeous, and your staff is interesting to draw. Definitely something I’ve never had a chance to sketch, to put it lightly.” He could just make out Sam grinning like an idiot from the mantle.

Those grey eyes crinkled again slightly at the joke and he huffed softly in laughter.

They fell into easy silence, eating the rest of their meal. As Bucky finished, he paused for a moment, thinking, before picking the muzzle up off the table and fastening it back in place. Steve felt a pang of disappointment, he had far from gotten his fill of Bucky’s voice without the covering.

“You may get up if you want now.” Steve nodded, pulling himself to his feet. He took his bowl and goblet, having grown used to helping Peggy with dishes at the end of the day.

He was about to head to the kitchen when Bucky spoke again, “Perhaps… we could go for a walk tomorrow?” Bucky looked hopeful, complete with puppy-dog eyes.

And how could Steve possibly say no to that face? “Of course. I’d like that.”

As usual, Steve helped Peggy with the dishes that night. Once every plate was clean and neatly stacked away, he bid her goodnight and went to his room. His thoughts swirled the entire trip back in the dark castle. Most of the candles were out at this point, just enough light for him to find his way along the corridors.

Like most nights, his mind wandered to what Tony was doing. He missed his friend, and the other had said that he’d figure something out. But Bucky seemed to be happy with the company, so Steve wasn’t entirely sure he could just leave and not feel guilty about it at this point. Not to say he didn’t want to go home either, though. Steve was sure he could come up with a compromise. Maybe visit Bucky? Split his time between the village and the castle? He could consider his options.

After dressing for bed, Steve layed beneath his covers, staring up at the ceiling in deep thought. He wondered why Bucky didn’t want Steve to see his mouth, why it bothered him so much, and why he even wore it in the first place. Perhaps he had a disfigurement? Maybe he could talk to Bucky about it because he really couldn’t give a damn if he had scars or anything. It didn’t matter. Steve fell asleep thinking of the lips that Bucky’s muzzle could be hiding.

The next day, Steve brought bird seed on his and Bucky’s walk around the grounds. Though it was snowy, the birds were out and happily flocked to him in search of breakfast. Steve tossed them birdseed, Bucky watching in fascination.

“Do you want to try?” Steve looked over at him, unable to help the fond smile that crossed lips when Bucky nodded eagerly. He urged the brunet to cup his hands, putting a small pile of seeds in them.

Bucky lowered himself to his knees, pushing his hands out in front of him. But he moved too fast and the birds flew a few feet away, picking up the seeds that Steve had tossed out. A crease developed between his eyebrows and he shuffled closer, trying again. Too fast again though, the birds moved again.

Steve shook his head, feeling sorry for the dejected-looking man and crouched down next to him with a hand on his shoulder. He gave him a little more birdseed, coaxing him to rest his hands on the ground.

One of the birds was braver, hopping closer and eyeing the seed in Bucky’s hands. Steve slowly laid out a trail into Bucky’s hand, urging the bird to come closer until it rested inside Bucky’s hands, eating the seed out of them.

Bucky’s eyes lit up like a child’s and he looked to Steve in excitement, as if to make sure he was looking. But of course Steve was looking, how could he not be?

As Bucky continued to feed the birds, Steve straightened, squeezing his arm lightly as he did. He walked a few steps away, breathing in the crisp air. As he turned, he noticed Bucky’s intense gaze on him again, grey eyes not wavering from his. He smiled lightly, slipping behind a tree and pausing to gather his thoughts.

Steve hadn’t really realized how hard he was falling for this man. His eyes could derail Steve’s train of thought with no effort, and Steve was waiting desperately for the next time he could hear Bucky’s voice without the muzzle. For fuck’s sake, all he could think about was the way Bucky’s lips may look underneath the obstruction.

They had started off rocky, unsure of each other and how to handle the situation at hand. But now they’ve fallen into an easy rhythm. Steve was looking forward to sitting together in silent company in the library and to having meals together where they could talk about themselves. He wanted to ask Bucky more about his life, but Steve figured he’d give the man his space until he was sure his questions wouldn’t be intrusive.

When he looked back toward Bucky, his heart swelled as he saw the other man covered in birds, all of them lining his arms and resting atop his head. As the brunet was distracted, Steve sees his chance and kneels down, packing a snowball together in his hands. The birds seemed to realize his goal and flew off in a flurry. Once Bucky had turned to him in excitement, to tell him all about what had happened, Steve threw the snowball. It hit Bucky smack in the face, exploding into powder on impact.

Bucky looked astounded for a moment, blinking snow off his eyelashes.

Steve laughed, almost doubling over. As soon as the other man realized that it’s a game and all in good fun, his eyes crinkled and he started building a huge snowball. As he lifted it, ready to bomb the blond, Steve threw another snowball of his own.

This one hit its mark as well, and also caused Bucky to drop his monstrosity onto his own head. He was coated in snow at this point and Steve could hear him laughing beneath the mask.

They played chase for a while, which mostly resulted in Steve running around the tree and pelting Bucky with snowballs every chance he got.

Finally, Bucky managed to hit him, and for a moment looked worried that he’d hurt Steve or upset him, before Steve is laughing, nearly slipping in the snow and landing on his face. They were both in fits of laughter, covered in snow.

However, because of this, they got cold quickly and retreated inside, where Peggy made them hot tea. They sat in front of a roaring fire in the library, sipping at the warm liquid until they felt less frostbitten.

They gathered together on the floor, where Steve finished reading Romeo and Juliet to Bucky. They had started the day before, when Bucky had asked what Steve was reading. As Steve finished and closed the book, Bucky smiled lightly, “I never knew books could do that…”

Steve looked over at him curiously, setting the book on the table next to him, “Do what?”

“Take you away… from this life.” Steve’s heart clenched at Bucky’s comment. What had this poor man endured that made him feel this way.

Before Steve could comment, Bucky glanced up at him and asked if he could read another.

“How about you read one to me?”

Bucky looked surprised, hesitant, “Uh… okay…” When Steve handed him the story of King Arthur, he looked at the book as if it might bite him. He opened to the first page, staring hard at the words, “I… I can’t.”

“You mean… you never learned?” Steve felt sorry for him and kind of bad that he had just put him on the spot like this.

“I learned!” Bucky assured, then looked unsure again, “It’s just been… so long.”

Steve nodded in understanding, scooting closer, “Here. I’ll help you.”

And so he did and they spent hours reading. Bucky caught on fast, only needing Steve’s assistance on longer words. They made it a decent way into the book before Steve was overtaken by yawns and long-blinks that turned into mini naps.

“I should let you go to bed. It’s late.” Bucky stood and held out a hand for him, which Steve took gratefully. It took the brunet a moment to actually let go of his hand, fingers trailing over the skin and sending a shiver up Steve’s spine.

“Here, I’ll bring our cups to Peggy. Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, Steve.” Bucky smiled lightly, slipping out the door.

Steve gathered their cups, padding quietly down to the kitchen where he couldn’t find Peggy. He cleaned the cups out and put them away before heading up the stairs to his bedroom.

Upon entering the room, he found a single rose resting on his pillow. Steve had never smiled harder in his entire life.

Goddamn he was in deep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for all you wonderful people! I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. If you want some added pain, I listened to I Want You to Want Me by Chase Holfelder while I wrote it. Thank you all for your kind words and kudos thus far, and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic!

The next morning he woke to a small card propped up on the table next to him. His name was carefully written out on the front and when he opened it, he found a short hand-written note:

_Steve,_

_I’ve enjoyed the last few days more than you know. I want to invite you to dinner tonight, and perhaps a dance afterwards?_

_Yours,_

_Bucky_

If it was possible for Steve’s face to actually split from smiling too hard, it would have happened. How they evolved this much, from Steve saving Tony from the frightening master of the castle, to Steve excited to have a romantic evening with Bucky, he had no idea. He was happy about it though, he’d never felt this happy.

Only one problem: he had no idea how to dance. When he was young he was too small and sickly, and when he had gotten older, he was weird. He didn’t exactly have anyone lining up to dance with him, so he had never bothered to learn. He just hadn’t deemed it important. Oh, how wrong that decision had been.

He dressed and brushed his teeth quickly, going down to the kitchens, “Peggy?”

“Steve, dear. Good morning. You’re up early.” Peggy was preparing breakfast still, looking over at Steve in curiosity.

Steve beamed at her, “Bucky invited me to dinner tonight. And a dance afterward.”

“Oh, how exciting!”

“Yeah… except… I don’t know how to dance.” Steve bit his lip, shuffling his feet in embarrassment. Of course he didn’t. That would just be too easy and his life was anything but.

Peggy blinked at him in surprise, “You… haven’t danced?”

He shrugged helplessly, “Never had reason to.”

“Oh dear. That’s a dilemma.”

“Dilemma? What’s a dilemma?” Sam came into the kitchen, looking between Peggy and Steve as if he suspected them of plotting something.

“Steve doesn’t know how to dance!”

Sam rounded on Steve, “You don’t? But what about the master’s request?”

“That’s the problem. I need help.” Steve frowned.

Sam’s eyes lit up, “Help we can offer. Peggy and I will coach you. Peggy will be your dance partner.”

Steve could feel himself relax, shoulders slumping a bit in relief, “Thank you.”

They seemed more than happy to help, ushering him into the dining room and helping him move the table against the wall to allow as much room as possible.

“Alright, obviously this will be a little different from the actual thing, because the master has a waist and hands. But the biggest thing you need to learn is the steps. We’re just going to teach you a basic waltz.” Sam smiled as Peggy went over to Steve.

Steve picked her up carefully, cupping her in his hands and looking down at his feet, unsure.

“Now what you’re going to do is start with your feet together. Step forward with your left foot, then to the side with your right. Put your feet together, then step back with your right. To the side with your left, then put them together.” As Peggy spoke, Sam demonstrated as best as he could. But with only one ‘foot’ it was difficult.

“Then you just repeat over and over and spin while you do it until you get dizzy.” Sam grinned, from the table.

After a few failed attempts, Sam called in Peter and DP to demonstrate as either foot as he gave the instructions again. This time, Steve saw the pattern and followed it, Peggy encouraging him through the steps.

Eventually they moved to the library, where there was a piano. Sam urged it to play a nice waltz while the rest of them moved the furniture to make another dance space.

Steve got better and better at it, Sam playfully picking up the music until he was spinning like a top and laughing.

They stopped abruptly when the door opened, but it was just Natasha. She looked them over, smiling slowly, “No one thought to invite me to the party? I’m crushed.”

Steve grinned, gently setting Peggy on the table. He bowed low to Natasha, kneeling and holding out a hand for her. She took his hand and he lifted her up, spinning with her.

She would correct him every so often with the placement of his feet or the fluidity of his movements. Eventually she smiled proudly, nodding in approval.

They spun and danced and laughed until Steve could dance as easily as he could walk. Steve laid out in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, laughing breathlessly. A thought occurred to him and he looked over at his companions, “Who’s going to lead? Bucky or me?”

“Well… you’re taller than he is. And I think the master needs someone else to take charge for once. So… you.” Sam shrugged.

Steve nodded slightly, sitting up straighter, “What if I mess up?”

“You won’t. You’re practically a natural.” Natasha grinned at him.

Steve’s eyes slid to the floor, “He’s just so excited about this… I don’t want to screw it up for him.”

Peggy smiled gently, “You’re thinking about it too much. Just be your usual self.”

“Because that’s been working great.” Sam smirked slightly, earning him a sharp jab from Natasha.

She turned to him, “You should probably start getting ready. I’m sure Clint will be ecstatic to help you pick an outfit.”

Steve nodded slightly, thanking them for all their help before heading up to his room. As expected, Clint grinned the moment he stepped inside, “I have just the thing for your romantic evening.”

“Let me wash up, first. I’m interested in seeing what you deem worthy of such an important night, though.” Steve smiled, going to his washroom.

As the night grew closer, Steve felt his stomach clenching in nervousness and butterflies flitted around in places they didn’t belong. He knew it was silly, that Bucky’s been around him enough that he didn’t have to worry about the other man judging him, but the worry was still there, the anxiety that tugged at his heart and made up ridiculous scenarios in his head.

What if he trips, going down the stairs? What if he steps on Bucky’s feet? Sure, he had practiced all day, but never with anyone who had feet. He could fuck this up so bad and the thing is… he didn’t want to. Steve genuinely wanted this evening to go really well. Bucky was… different. Steve had been attracted to men before, and the more he got to know Bucky, the more he found himself falling for everything about him. Just the fact that he would get to hear Bucky’s voice, unfiltered, again tonight sent a little thrill through him. And the man’s eyes? God, he could look at them for eternity. He’d been trying to sketch them, to get them just right, but he couldn’t. They held too much for him to be able to accurately portray, at least not from memory. Maybe if he had a chance to sit and study them, and Bucky model them of course, he would be able to get the details down.

He pulled himself out of his artist haze, washing up and getting into every nook and cranny. Once he was sure he was clean, Steve went back out to his bedroom clad just in his underwear.

“I feel bad for covering up such nice muscles, but Natasha was clear about the dress code for tonight.” Clint nodded to a suit laid out on Steve’s bed.

It was beautiful, with a white dress shirt, pale yellow waist coat with gold detailing, and a yellow suit jacket. It was accompanied by white pants and soft brown boots. He smiled, running his hands over the smooth fabric, “It’s amazing.”

“Of course it is, I picked it. Go ahead, try it on.”

Steve slipped into the clothes easily, carefully buttoning the dress shirt and tucking it into the pants. As he put the vest and jacket on, he turned to the mirror and looked himself over. He looked… amazing, actually. The color was nice against his skin, and the gold detailing glinted a bit in the light. It even made his eyes pop a bit and he smiled widely. He’d never looked better, he was sure.

“You look… dashing.” Peggy had pushed open the door slightly, coming inside. She smiled, giving him an approving nod.

He gave her a fond look, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously, “Thanks, Pegs.” Steve glanced toward the mirror again, running his fingers through his hair until he had a deep side part on the left, smoothing the strands down.

Once he was ready, he slowly followed Peggy down the hall, chewing his lip as he went. Peggy urged him to wait further down the hall, allowing her time to get down to the kitchen to help set the table for dinner.

He fidgeted as he waited, rubbing his hands together nervously. He’d checked himself in the mirror probably a thousand times before he had left his room, making sure everything was perfect. Steve could feel the nerves bubbling up, worse than before, and sighed. He couldn’t wait here forever.

Steve continued down the hall and when he reached the staircase, he looked up to see Bucky standing at the opposite staircase, looking absolutely ravishing. A bronze vest was buttoned over a white dress shirt, and a blue suit jacket over that with gold trim and buttons. His pants were black with a gold stripe running down each leg and his feet were pushed into shiny black dress shoes. As usual, his left hand was covered in a soft black glove.

The man’s longer hair was pulled back into a low ponytail with a blue bow to match the jacket, though there are several strands that escaped the hairstyle, falling to either side of his face.

Bucky was wearing his mask, as he always was, and he looked nervous until he looked up and saw Steve. Then his eyes brightened in happiness and the corners crinkled.

They went down the stairs, Steve mimicking Bucky when the other man clasped his hands behind his back. He saw Bucky give him a barely-there nod and when they reach the landing he looked Steve over in interest, as if seeing him for the first time.

Steve felt his face heat up, but also felt his lips pull into a bright smile.

They bowed to each other and Bucky offered his arm, which Steve took gladly. As they continued down the rest of the stairs and to the dining room, Bucky murmured, “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

Steve glanced over at him, “How could I possibly refuse?”

Bucky cast him a long look, looking amazed and enamored all at once. His eyes moved slowly over Steve’s face, like he was memorizing the features. And if Steve noticed that his eyes lingered on his lips, he wasn’t going to mention it.

Upon reaching the table, Bucky led him to one end of the table, pulling out the chair for him. After Steve had thanked him and settled himself, the brunet went to the other end of the table, taking his seat.

Peggy brought out soup for them, Sam filling their goblets with wine. Natasha had gotten the piano moved into the room and she prompted it and the violin to play a quiet, gentle tune.

Steve thanked Peggy, smiling lightly at James from across the table. The bouquet of roses was in the center of the table again, blocking the lower half of James’ face. The man’s hands did not shake as he took the muzzle off this time, setting it carefully to the side.

The other man ate much slower this time, much neater. Halfway into their meal, he looked up, lifting his napkin briefly to wipe his mouth, “What was your mother like?”

Steve blinked, looking up at him. Again, he was slightly dumbfounded by the richness of his voice, “Ah… she was a very kind lady, a nurse, actually. She loved helping people and she loved children. She worked two jobs, when I was very young, to help pay for my doctor visits.”

Bucky nodded slightly, watching him, “She sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, she was… She never put herself first, you know?” Steve smiled sadly, stirring his spoon slowly through his soup. Eventually he looked up again, curiosity getting the better of him, “What about you?”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, surprised by the question. He took a second or two, brows drawn together in thought, “She was kind. Her and my father were always off on diplomatic trips when I was young. But she died early on, as well. She was under a lot of stress and her heart couldn’t take it.”

Steve felt his heart clench, “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He shrugged, looking down at his food, “It was a long time ago.”

And Steve could understand that, knew how the man felt and how no matter what anyone said to try and make things better, the pain was still there.

He could see the man didn’t want to delve any deeper, so Steve changed the subject, “You know… I used to be the village terror.”

“How so?” Bucky seemed intrigued, leaning forward a bit in his seat to hold Steve’s gaze.

Steve couldn’t help but grin, “When I wasn’t sick, I was picking fights. With guys much bigger than myself. At least back then. I used to be ninety pounds, wet.”

The other man laughed and Steve wanted to hear more of it. Wanted that bubble of sound to escape his lips more often. “You’re shitting me. You’ve got to be.”

“No, really. I used to be really skinny, barely over five feet, and sick like you wouldn’t believe. But I would go up against these guys, these guys who completely deserved to have their asses handed to them. I was always the one who got my ass kicked, though.” Steve shrugged.

Bucky paused, a crease forming between his brows, “And you just kept doing it?”

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t let them be rude to dames or be ignorant of those who went to war.” Steve frowned, shrugging. It had never seemed like a big issue for him, for him to be going up against guys that had at least fifty pounds on him at the time, especially if they were assholes.

“Steve… You could have gotten _hurt_.” He looked stuck in some emotion between anger and worry.

Steve watched him, surprised, “I was fine, Bucky. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Bucky looked back down at his food, quiet. His shoulders were tense, the crease in his brows not going away. Steve longed to get up and go to him, but he held himself back.

At least he did until he saw Bucky reach for the muzzle and put it carefully back over his mouth. Then he rose to his feet, those stormy eyes following him the whole while, and went over to him. Steve smiled softly, holding out a hand, “May I have this dance?”

Just as he hoped they would, he saw Bucky’s pinched expression melt away and his eyes crinkled at the corners, “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” He took his hand, standing.

“You were taking your sweet time. So I figured I’d take matters into my own hands.” He grinned and led the other man to the ballroom. The space was vast, their steps echoing on the polished stone floors. The walls were a dazzling gold, with stone pillars lining either side of the room. There was a ledge around the entire room with blue canopies hanging along it. The wall directly opposite them was made of floor-to ceiling windows with a glass door leading out onto a stone balcony. The ceiling was domed high above their heads, little cherubs permanently in flight between puffy clouds. In the center of the ceiling hung an extravagant gold chandelier with flickering candles.

The music started up again in there, from the violins in the corner. Steve stopped inside, turning to Bucky and pulling him in close. One hand at his waist and the other twined with Bucky’s own fingers.

Counting his steps in his head, he slowly led Bucky around the room, spinning him. Bucky’s eyes crinkled and he squeezed Steve’s hand lightly, his other hand on his shoulder.

Steve gained confidence with each step, grinning widely and spinning Bucky out. The other man laughed, turning back in until they were close together, back to chest. Smiling fondly, Steve spun him to face him again. Steve couldn’t imagine a more perfect night, and he knew he had already fallen hard for this man. There was just something about him, something in him that aligned so well with Steve’s own soul. It made him melt a little.

He’d never seen Bucky this happy, he’d never seen _anyone_ this happy. His eyes were bright and focused solely on Steve, the edges crinkled with joy. With a smile, Steve turned them slowly. His heart swelled when Bucky leaned into him, tucking his head against his neck. Slowly he wrapped his arm more securely around Bucky’s waist, holding him close.

If someone had told him in the beginning that he would fall head over heels for the master of the castle, he would have called them out on their bullshit. Now, looking down at the man snuggled into his chest, Steve knew he cared immensely about him. He wanted nothing more than for this to be his life, for him to be able to keep Bucky close.

The candles around them dimmed, casting only a soft glow around the room and across their faces. As the violin slowed to the end of its tune, Bucky lifted his head again. The flames illuminated his eyes, the grey looking more like melted iron than the cold steel it once had. He tugged Steve’s hand lightly, until the other man followed him to a glass door set into the wall of windows.

Steve allowed himself to be led out to the balcony, sitting on the stony railing. He smiled lightly at Bucky, who sat next to him and looked down, rubbing his neck nervously. Bucky sighed out, face flushed like he was hot, and he carefully shrugged out of his jacket.

He was wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt underneath, and Steve’s eyes immediately went to the rose wrapped around Bucky’s arm. The bright red flower was prominent against his shoulder, pushing his left sleeve up further than the right. Thorns stuck out of the stem, pressing against the skin and leaving deep welts. The stem itself wrapped all the way down his arm, curling underneath his glove. Bucky tugged at the fingers of the glove, pulling the fabric away from his skin. The end of the stem disappeared into his wrist, melting into his skin.

Steve couldn’t help his eyes raking over Bucky’s arm, taking in the little details and ultimately admiring the sight. Overall, it was gorgeous, something he greatly desired to draw. He wanted to know the purpose behind it, how it was even possible, but now wasn’t the time.

Steve looked up at Bucky. He still had the muzzle on, covering his mouth and nose, and Steve couldn’t help but reach up, brushing his fingers over the hairs framing his face. Bucky’s eyes lifted to meet Steve’s, watching him carefully.

“Why do you wear this, Bucky?” The words were quiet, gentle. Steve didn’t want to intrude, or upset Bucky in any way. He was genuinely curious and wanted the other man to trust him.

Bucky looked down, silent for a few moments. When he looked up again, he seemed to have come to a decision. His eyes were determined and he reached up with shaking hands, undoing a clasp behind his head.  He paused for a second, taking a deep breath that lifted his shoulders, and took the mask off, setting it to the side.

Steve saw him swallow hard, eyes down. Steve’s eyes traveled over the stubble spread across Bucky’s jaw and the pink lips they framed. They looked soft, like they’d be supple under the weight of Steve’s own. They were slightly chapped, from being underneath the mask so often, but Steve could hardly care. He’d never wanted to kiss someone more than he did at that moment.

 _Baby steps_ , he told himself. So he slowly lifted a hand, giving Bucky a chance to pull away. When he didn’t, Steve lightly brushed his fingers against the stubble smattered across Bucky’s cheek. The other man leaned into his touch, sighing softly as his shoulders relaxed.

“Steve…” His voice came out nearly a whisper, yet his voice still sent shivers up Steve’s spine, and he looked up at the man in front of him, one hand going up to cover Steve’s. Bucky curled his fingers through Steve’s, examining his face, “Are you happy here? With me?”

Steve felt his lips curl into a smile, “Of course…” His heart clenched a bit in guilt, mind going to Tony, and wondering if the other man was worried about him. They’d been friends for a long time, and Steve couldn’t ignore that. He adored Bucky, wanted to be with him, but he needed to see Tony, needed to let him know that he was okay. Before he could stop himself, the words were escaping his lips, “I just…”

The effect his words had on Bucky showed, the other man seeming to deflate. The brightness in his eyes seemed to dim, and Steve squeezed his hand, “Bucky. I’ve never been happier, I promise. But Tony… I just wish there was a way for me to see him again. I… I miss him.”

Frowning lightly, Bucky looked to the floor, brows drawn together. He looked up suddenly, “There’s a way.” He took Steve’s hand, picking up his mask with the other.

Steve followed him back inside to the staircase. When Bucky started to lead him up into the West Wing, he paused for a moment, remembering the last time he’d been up there. Bucky gently persisted, though, tugging his hand until Steve followed him the rest of the way inside. They went to a small table, and Bucky picked up a small silver hand mirror. Holding it out to Steve, he told him, “This mirror’s enchanted. It will show you anything you want to see.”

Steve frowned, taking it carefully. After glancing up at Bucky, he looked to the mirror, “…I’d like to see Tony, please.”

The mirror crackled and glowed, the glass surface shimmering and moving like water to show Tony, wrapped tightly in a cloak. He stumbled a few steps, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone to call Steve’s name. Wind blew his hair back, and the ground was frosted with snow. Steve watched as Tony slipped on a small patch of ice, managing to catch himself with his hands. He knew that if Tony kept this up, he wouldn’t make it very far. He could get lost, or the wolves would find him.

“Oh no…”

Bucky frowned, “Steve, what is it?”

“Tony’s out in the woods. He’s looking for me, by himself. He could get lost, or the wolves could get him. It’s freezing out, he needs help.”

 Bucky turned his back to Steve, fingers brushing against the silky rose petals set into his shoulder. Steve saw his jaw clench and unclench a few times before he looked up slightly, not quite looking over his shoulder at Steve, “Then you must go find him. Bring him back to the village. Take care of him.”

“I… what?”

“I’m letting you go; you’re free. You’re not my prisoner anymore.”

Steve blinked at him slowly, the words taking their time to sink in, “Bucky… thank you.” He looked down at the mirror again, murmuring to himself, “Don’t worry, Tony. I’m coming.” Steve looked over at Bucky, starting to hand the mirror back.

But the other man just pushed it back toward him, “Keep it. So you’ll always have a way to look back and remember me.” He gave a crooked smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, as he ran the back of his fingertips over Steve’s cheek.

Steve smiled sadly, “Thank you… for understanding how much he needs me.” He reached up, squeezing Bucky’s fingers before walking out.

At the entry for the West Wing, he looked back briefly, only to see Bucky carefully putting the muzzle back in place to cover that perfect mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for all you lovely readers. Enjoy, I recommend having tissues nearby

When Steve helped Tony back into their house, the shorter man patted him on the back as he lowered himself into a chair, “Man, I missed you. How did you escape? That guy was crazy. A beast.”

“I didn’t escape. He… he let me go.” Steve shook his head, wrapping a blanket around Tony’s shoulders and going to make tea.

Tony frowned, watching him, “What do you mean he let you go?”

“I mean… he’s not a terrible person. He just needed… someone. He… changed, somehow.” Steve set down a mug full of hot tea in front him. He looked over at Tony, “Your story was true. I thought you were kidding, but Bucky’s… Bucky’s the man in the story.”

Tony stared at him, “The story? Steve, that story’s just a fairytale.”

“It’s not a fairytale. I saw the rose on Bucky’s arm.”

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but looked over at Steve’s bag as it shook and fell open.

There was Thor, set on top of the enchanted mirror. He grinned widely up at Steve, “Hello!”

“A stowaway, huh? Thor, what are you doing here?”

The little teacup hoped over to them, looking up at Steve curiously, “Steven… why did you leave? Do you not find pleasure in our presence?”

“Oh, Thor. No, that’s not it. I do care about you. All of you. It’s just—“ Steve’s interrupted by a knock at the door. He frowns, sharing a look with Tony, before getting up and going to the door.

Steve opens their door to see a man from town, Obadiah, standing on their steps. He’s tall and takes up most of the doorway with his size. His head is bald, but thick white hair is spread across his jaw and chin. Steve frowns, eyeing him warily, “Hello… can I help you?”

“I’ve come for Tony Stark.” Obadiah shifts, trying to see around Steve into the house.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve blocked his path, “Why?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Rogers. We just want to take good care of him.” Obadiah stepped to the side, enough for Steve to see behind him. On the street in front of their house, a buggy was parked. Across the side was a sign marking it for the town Asylum.

Alarm bells rang in Steve’s head and he tightened his grip on the door, “Tony’s not crazy.”

“He sure _sounds_ crazy! The loon was raving about a beast in a castle! You all heard him right?” Zola, Rumlow’s little henchman, turned to the rest of the village, who had gathered outside their house. No doubt they were being the usual curious, nosy selves. At Zola’s words, they murmured amongst themselves, nodding.

Tony appeared at the door, lured by the noise. He looked over at Steve in question.

“Stark! Tell us again about this terrible beast of a man!”

Tony blinked, “He had to have been feral! His hair was all messy, and he snarled like a dog. He wore this mask, like he needed it on to keep him from tearing my throat out!”

“ _Tony_.”

Zola laughed, “You can’t get much crazier than that!”

Tony puffed up angrily, like a livid kitten. He went down the steps, hovering over Zola, “It’s true, dammit!”

“Get him out of here!” Voices rang from the crowd and a few men grabbed Tony, starting to drag him toward the buggy.

Steve panicked, rounding on Obadiah, “You can’t do this! This is insane!”

Obadiah ignored him however, and before he could go after him, Rumlow stepped into Steve’s path, “What a shame about poor Tony.”

“Rumlow, please. You must know Tony’s not actually crazy.” Steve’s not sure what made him think this. Perhaps it was just his desperate need for someone to be on his side, someone to believe him and help Tony. The entire village looked up to Rumlow, so if Steve could get him on his side, maybe he would help.

“Well… I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. I could help clear this up for you… if.”

Steve frowned, suddenly unsure in his decision to turn to Rumlow, “’if’ what?”

Rumlow grinned big and wide, reminding Steve of a wolf that’d just caught its prey, “If you marry me.”

“ _What_?” This. This is the reason Steve’s never liked Rumlow. The manipulation was ridiculous and never something that Steve would go for when looking for the person he wanted to spend his life with. The problem with Rumlow was his thick skull.

Rumlow threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders, drawing him close, “Come on. All it takes is one little word.”

“Never.” Steve pushed away from him, blood boiling.

The other man’s jaw clenched in anger, his face hardening, “Fine. Have it your way.”

Tony twisted around, eyes wide, “Steve!”

They didn’t believe him. They didn’t think Tony was telling the truth about Bucky. If only Steve could show them that Bucky was real… Steve turned, running back into the house. The mirror was sitting on the table, little Thor beside it.

The teacup looked up at him in surprise when he came barging back in, “Master Steven, what is going on?”

“No time to explain.” Steve scooped up the mirror and flew back outside. “I can prove Tony’s not crazy!”

The entire village turned to him questioningly and when he had their attention he told the mirror, “Show me Bucky!” The surface started to glow and he turned it to face the villagers. From them, he heard gasps and from the mirror he heard Bucky snarling and the crash of a table being thrown against the wall. Not the best first impression, but it would be enough to prove that Tony was not a loon.

“Is he dangerous?” He heard a woman yell as she pulled her young son behind her.

Steve shook his head quickly, “No, no! I know he looks vicious, but he’s really kind and gentle. He's my friend.”

Rumlow grabbed his shoulder from behind, spinning Steve around to face him, “If I didn’t know better, I would say you had feelings for the monster.”

Rage coursed its way through Steve, making him see red. Before he was really aware of what he was doing, Steve pulled his arm back and swung at Rumlow. His fist connected with Rumlow’s right cheek, pain blossoming across Steve’s knuckles. “He’s not the monster Rumlow. You are!”

Rumlow was shocked for a half second, hand coming up to touch the bruise swelling across his jaw. Then his eyes narrowed and he plucked the mirror out of Steve’s hands, “He’s as crazy as Stark!” He turned to the rest of the village, “He’ll make off with your children! He’ll come after them in the night! We’re not safe until he’s dead! I say we kill the beast!”

The women held their children close to their bosoms, while the men raised pitchforks and torches, shouting their agreement and praise. A chorus of voices sounded up, “We’re not safe until he’s dead.” “He’ll come stalking us at night.” “We’ll have to sacrifice our children to his monstrous appetite.”

“Then it’s time to take action! Follow me, and we’ll kill the beast!” Rumlow threw the torch onto the hay stack in front of the house, the dry straw immediately catching aflame. It lit up the house and the villagers in front of it in red, throwing huge shadows against the walls. Rumlow continued to goad and prompt the crowd, the women looking more and more frightened as the men became angrier.

Steve shoved past them, grabbing Rumlow’s arm, “No! This is ridiculous, I won’t let you!”

Rumlow pulled out of Steve’s grip, glaring at him, “If you’re not with us, then you’re against us.” He turned to look at the riled crowd, “Bring Stark!” As a group of men tossed Tony into the cellar, Rumlow pushed Steve in after him, “We can’t have you running off to warn the beast.” They slammed the door behind the two and slid a board through the handles, locking them shut.

Even as Steve threw himself against the door, he could hear the rest of the village rallying and shouting. After a moment, the sound slowly died and he knew they were on their way to the castle. Steve knew Bucky wasn’t safe, knew that he had to warn the other man. He didn’t know what he would do if Bucky was killed. It’d be all his fault.

“Steve! It’s no use. That door’s not going to budge.” Distantly, he could feel Tony grab his arm, keeping him from trying to break down the door.

His shoulder is throbbing and his gaze is hazy from panic. Steve can feel the stress starting to make him wheeze painfully, deep in his chest. “I have to warn Bucky. This is all my fault.”

“Steve, breathe. We’ll get out of here and get to the castle.” Tony didn’t sound too sure of his words, but he squeezed his friend’s shoulders, grounding him.

Steve nodded shakily, looking to the window set near the doors, when he saw movement outside it. He saw Thor, looking in through the small square of glass. Upon seeing the little teacup, Steve ran to the window, “Thor! Can you get us out?”

“Worry not, Steven! I will find a way to free you!” He watched Thor hop away, toward something he couldn’t see.

Tony frowned, trying to see out the window, “Where’s that wacky little cup going?”

Steve could barely think. The only thing going through his head was how much he needed to get to Bucky. The other man had no idea what was coming and it sounded like he wasn’t in good shape, going off the sound that had come from the mirror when it had shown him Bucky.

From somewhere outside, he heard some kind of machine fire up, sputtering to life. The sound amplified until it was a roar, just outside the wooden doors. Over the sound of machinery, came Thor’s voice, “Steven! Clear the door!”

Still in shock, Steve took a second to follow the order and Tony’s the one who actually pulled him out of harm’s way. Just in time for Tony’s wood-chopping machine to cut straight through the doors and fall into the cellar.

Steve coughed, feeling Tony’s hand on his back as he tried to steady him. The dust hurt Steve’s lungs and made his eyes water. Once the haze had cleared, he saw the heap of parts that were left of Tony’s contraption, Thor dangling off a twisted piece of metal by his handle. He was grinning widely, obviously proud of himself, and he laughed, “Splendid!”

Tony scooped up the teacup, looking at Steve, “Let’s go save your boy.”

Steve nodded quickly, following Tony out of the cellar as he picked his way around the debris from the break in. They went to their stables, leading their single horse out. With no time, they mounted without a saddle, Steve in the front.

As a storm brewed above, they went along the trails to the castle, following the remnants of the mob that had pushed through the forest. A stampede of footprints and burnt out torches littered the trails, the start of the carnage to come.

When they reached the castle, the rain had started, and Steve could see that the gate had been forced open, one iron structure hanging at an awkward angle from its broken hinges. Light spilled out onto the gravel path up to the castle from the open oak doors, also looking to be forced open. The tree trunk they had used to ram the door open laid splayed across the threshold.

A flash of lightning brought his attention up to the balcony outside the West Wing, where he could see Bucky slouched over the end of a stone platform jutting out of the side of the castle. Rumlow stood over him, some kind of club gripped in one hand as he cornered Bucky.

Steve jumped off the horse, “Bucky!” From here, he could see Bucky lift his head, blinking. All Steve could focus on was Rumlow raising the club over his head. “Rumlow! Don’t!”

Bucky turned, catching the club as Rumlow swung it down. He stood slowly to his full height, and Steve could see breaths heaving in his chest. Bucky pushed back against Rumlow, who seemed shocked that Bucky was fighting back. Despite Rumlow being a head taller than Bucky, the smaller man had always been unnaturally strong and was able to push Rumlow back a few steps.

Steve didn’t wait to see more, but instead ran inside, dodging the ram left forgotten in the doorway. The castle was in chaos, the staff in battle against the villagers. Steve could see Sam lighting people’s clothes aflame, Natasha wielding the sharpest knives she could find in the kitchen, and Peggy up on a high shelf, pouring scalding hot tea onto the unsuspecting attackers below. Peter had plastered himself to someone’s face, feathers obscuring their vision as DP had his teeth sunk into their pant leg.

He didn’t have time to help, and it didn’t really look like they needed any, so Steve ran straight to the stairs, taking them three at a time. Turning to the West Wing, Steve pushed past broken tables and shattered mirrors. He knew Bucky could hold his own, and Bucky knew Steve was here. Bucky must realize Steve came back for him, wanted to warn him. And he had almost been too late, Rumlow had almost killed him. Just knowing that Bucky was still indeed alive helped push Steve to continue on.

Upon reaching the balcony, Steve looked around for a sight of Bucky. He spotted him, on a ledge some twenty feet down. Rumlow was on the ground at his feet, looking horror-stricken and rubbing his throat.

“Bucky!”

The man looked up toward the sound of Steve’s voice and the brightening of his eyes was visible from the balcony. “Steve.” The roof leading from the ledge to the balcony was slanted just so, enough that Bucky started to scale it. Steve reached down a hand to him, which the other man took, carefully pulling himself further up. When he was closer, Bucky gripped the railing with one hand, brushing the fingers on his other hand against Steve’s cheek, “You came back.”

Steve smiled, wrapping his hand around Bucky’s wrist and squeezing gently.

Those grey eyes looked astounded, but the edges crinkled in happiness, a sight Steve realized he had missed dearly in their brief time apart.

“Ste—“ Bucky cut off, crying out and twisting to see something behind him.

Rumlow had climbed up after him and sunk a knife into Bucky’s side, grinning maliciously. Then his face falls again, as the shingles shift beneath his feet and he slips, arms pin-wheeling.

Bucky starts to slide as well, and Steve reaches out. He catches Bucky’s hand and watches with wide eyes as Rumlow falls away, screaming, out of sight. Steve drops his head briefly, clutching to Bucky’s hand with all his might. Then he feels Bucky slip further.

The shingles aren’t supporting him and Bucky is trying to find a foothold, his free hand pressed tightly over the wound in his side. He looks up at Steve in panic, prompting the other man to assure him, “I’ve got you.”

The rain made their hands slick though, and their skin slides against each other, finding no real purchase. In a split moment, Bucky’s hand slid out of Steve’s and the man slides down after the shingles. As he falls from the ledge and to the dark ground below, all Steve can do is yell after him, “Bucky!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you guys have suffered with the cliffhanger for long enough! Here's the next chapter!

Steve was frozen in place for a good minute, waiting to wake up from the nightmare. That must be what it was, right? Just a nightmare. Bucky couldn’t have fallen, that was impossible. It was all just a bad dream.

But Steve didn’t wake up. He forced himself to make his legs move, despite them feeling made of lead. His first few steps were uneven, shaky, and then he was flying down the stairs, feet barely touching the floor. The castle staff was celebrating in the foyer, looking to have driven out every last villager that had intruded. Beyond the towering oak doors, still open with the ram nestled between them, the rain continued.

A flash of lightning showed him exactly what he most feared seeing. A crumpled figure lay just outside the doors, a dark heap on the cobblestone path. Everything else around him became a fog, and Steve could only run out the door to Bucky’s side. He looked broken, eyes fallen shut and lashes fanned out across his cheeks. He had landed on his left side, Steve could see the rose crushed beneath his shoulder. As he carefully rolled Bucky onto his back, his head cradled in Steve’s lap, a few petals fell to the ground, red as blood.

Steve’s hand shook as he carefully brushed hair away from Bucky’s eyes, and he flinched back when the other man stirred, eyes fluttering open a crack, “Steve…”

As Bucky looked up at him, eyes a dull grey, Steve could feel his heart crack, “You came back.” The honest astonishment in his voice made Steve want to crawl into a hole. In his haste to get Tony home safe, he hadn’t stopped to think about what Bucky must have been feeling. And now, to see how shocked he is that Steve returned at all, Steve couldn’t bare it. He hated himself.

“Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them… Oh, Bucky… This is all my fault.” Steve knew that if he had gotten there a minute sooner, if he had just pulled Bucky up onto the balcony or if he had seen Rumlow… if he had never left Bucky at all. This wouldn’t have happened. Just on the edge of his vision, Steve could see Sam, Natasha, and Peggy. All gathered at the door, watching silently.

Bucky looked up at him, sadness dragging across his face, “Maybe… maybe it’s better this way.”

Steve couldn’t imagine what would possibly make him think so, and could only shush him gently, “Don’t talk like that… You’ll be alright.” He knew it was a lie, though. He didn’t live in those books that he loved to read oh so much; happily ever after didn’t exist. Steve knew Bucky wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t tell him that. If he could assure Bucky, even just a little, that everything would be perfect, he would pour his very soul into his efforts. “We’re together now. And I’m with you till the end of the line.”

Bucky’s eyes crinkled weakly, breathing shallow as he reached up to touch the side of Steve’s face, “At least… I got to see you…one last time.”

Steve blinked, the tears welling in his eyes starting to slip down his cheeks. He put his hand over Bucky’s, leaning into his touch and closing his eyes. This shouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t be happening. It must have all been a nightmare. Steve wanted to believe it, wanted to just wake up from this horrid dream. But then he felt Bucky’s hand slip, going slack, and he forced himself to open his eyes.

Bucky was still before him, looking broken and defeated. His hand fell limply to his side as his eyes fell shut. Steve saw his chest heave once, and then lay still.

The tears came like a flood, Steve dropping his head and cradling Bucky’s face in both hands. It was his fault. He could have saved him, should have risked his own life, like Bucky had done for him. Steve’s heart shattered, he could feel it laying heavy and sharp as glass at the pit of his stomach. One wrong move and it would tear him to pieces.

Distantly, as if he was underwater, Steve could hear his own voice, begging quietly between sobs. “Please… Please don’t leave me.” His voice sounded broken and hollow to his own ears, and all he could feel was Bucky’s skin growing cold under his fingers from the ongoing rain. It made his hair fall across his face, and soaked him to the bone, but not even the downpour was enough to hide the salty tears marking their own hot tracks down his cheeks.

He closed his eyes, forehead pressed against Bucky’s, and he let the words that were so desperate to be heard spill from his lips, “I love you.”

Had he realized it sooner, Bucky would still be alive. Steve wouldn’t be sitting in the cold, cradling Bucky’s broken body close to his chest. When they had their dance, Steve couldn’t imagine a future without Bucky. And now… he’d be happy to just have one more moment with him.

Steve’s fingers twisted into Bucky’s shirt, body shaking with sobs.

A small sound caught his attention, a sort of swishing, twinkling sound. Behind his closed eyelids, he could see colored lights flash around him. Steve looked up, eyes teary, to see streaks of light falling around him and Bucky’s body. They start off slow, then become a shower of light, exploding into sparks when they hit the cobblestones.

As Steve looks around in shock and confusion, his attention was snapped back to the body beneath him when it started to rise, as if something was lifting the limp form. Steve fell back, startled, watching as Bucky’s body rose higher. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide as light blossomed from the rose at Bucky’s shoulder. It glowed bright as the sparks surrounding them, the flower dripping with luminescence. The steady trickle of light traveled down the flower stem and gathered at the ends of each thorn.

Bucky’s fingers twitched and jerked, but Steve watched speechlessly as the light shining from the rose faded, the rose itself melting into Bucky’s skin. In seconds, all that was left was scars, in the exact shape of the rose and stem it had balanced on. The light faded again, and Bucky was lowered back to the ground.

Steve started to take a step toward him, jumping back when he heard a groan and Bucky pushed himself up onto his elbow. As he watched Bucky sit up, Steve’s heart found a new home in his throat. The other man stumbled to his feet, clothes torn and dirty, and inspected his left arm. His fingers traced up the tangle of scars, as Steve finally found his voice and was able to force out a strangled “Bucky.”

Bucky turned quickly to face him, stumbling a bit. His eyes were wide, and his hand had traveled to his left arm, feeling the scar tissue that now covered where the rose once was. “Steve… I… I’m _alive_. And the _curse_ …”

Steve slowly took a few steps toward him, hands reaching up to brush through Bucky’s hair. The other man leaned into the touch, and Steve searched his eyes. He didn’t know how it was possible, but this was Bucky. His Bucky.

As his fingers traveled down across Bucky’s shoulders, he carefully inspected the scars on his arm, fingers splayed across the flower of discoloration set into the skin. The contact quieted Bucky again, and his shoulders tensed up in worry. Steve frowned, hands traveling back up to touch the muzzle still across Bucky’s mouth.

The other man shied back at the touch, eyes dropping. “Please, don’t…”

“Buck… do you trust me?” Steve couldn’t fathom how much this meant to him, how much he wanted Bucky to tell him yes, that he trusted Steve completely. It wasn’t up to him, though, and he knew that.

Bucky looked back up at him, eyes flickering back and forth as he took in Steve’s expression.

Steve forced himself to be patient, even though all he wanted to do was to gather Bucky close and keep him safe for the rest of time. He wanted Bucky to be happy, because he deserved that, and Steve could only hope that he made Bucky happy.

When Bucky gave a barely-there nod, just a quick jerk of the chin, Steve couldn’t help but smile. His fingers slid along the muzzle, briefly disappearing beneath Bucky’s hair as he undid the clasp in the back. Slowly, carefully, Steve took the mask off Bucky’s face, revealing the stubble and supple lips beneath it.

Bucky kept his eyes locked on Steve’s, the grey piercing and watchful. When the mask was off, he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it in disquiet. Steve couldn’t quite take his eyes off the sight, and he let the mask fall from his hands.

Bucky’s fingers trembled a bit as he raised a hand, allowing the pads of his fingers to press against Steve’s jaw. His gaze dropped to Steve’s lips, and that’s what prompted Steve into action.

He pushed himself forward, letting himself be overtaken by a sudden burst of confidence and desire. His hand wanders from Bucky’s jaw to cradle the back of his head and tangle into his hair.

The kiss started off a brush of lips, just the barest hint of contact. Until Bucky curled his fingers around the back of Steve’s neck and pulled him closer, making a needy sound in the back of his throat. Steve couldn’t help the smile pulling at his lips, and he obliged to the request, deepening the kiss. His mouth was soft, a sharp contrast to the stubble scratching against Steve’s chin and jaw.

If Steve had realized that kissing Bucky could make him as happy as it did, he certainly would have done it earlier. He wanted nothing more than to do this for the rest of his life, and he was overwhelmed with the fact that that was possible. This could be his life. Steve could kiss Bucky every day if he wanted to, and he definitely wanted to.

Steve could feel the rain stop, and when he pulled away, Bucky laughed and it’s all Steve could do to not kiss him again. It was joyous, free, and no longer muffled by the muzzle. It was by far the best sound Steve had ever heard, and he pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple.

Looking up, he watched blue sparks shoot up to the top of the castle, raining drops of light upon the castle. The dark, cracked appearance of the castle melted away, the gargoyles transforming into cherubs before their very eyes. The clouds cleared, allowing sunlight to wash over the castle, and roses bloomed from the vines that had wound their way up every surface they could reach.

On the front steps, Sam grew and transformed back into a human. He had dark skin and a wide smile. A thick patch of stubble lined his chin and over his top lip, and his hair was cut close to his head. Natasha grew as well, returning to her body from before the curse. She stood tall, curly dark red hair framing her face as she gave Steve a sly smile. The last to change back was Peggy, and when she did she sent Steve a huge smile, nodding. Her curly brown hair was short, barely brushing her shoulders.

Bucky lifted his head, seeing the three of them and his eyes lit up, “Natasha! Sam! Peggy!” He ran up the steps to meet them, wrapping them in a hug, “Look at you guys!”

Sam laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, “Man, it’s good to be back.”

When Bucky looked back to Steve, the corners of his eyes had crinkled, and his mouth was split in a wide grin. “We will have a party! To celebrate!”

Sam, Natasha, and Peggy immediately went to work to set up a party. As they disappeared inside, Steve saw Tony just inside the doorway, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

He smiled, motioning for Tony to come outside, as Bucky returned to his side, following Steve’s gaze to the other man.

Tony eyed Bucky, understandably weary. The last time he had been face to face with Bucky, he had gotten yelled at and literally thrown out.

“Tony… I want you to meet Bucky.” Steve could see Tony’s snappish remark forming on his lips, so he gave him a pointed look.

He pursed his lips instead, sticking a hand out, “Nice to meet you, Buckaroo.” It was the closest he could get to a proper greeting.

Bucky raised his eyebrows, watching him. After a second, he shook Tony’s hand, “And you, Tin-man.”

Tony’s head snapped to Steve, “I tried to make a suit of armor _one time_. I thought I could trust you with that story.”

Steve grinned at him, “I never swore to secrecy.”

“You play a hard game, Rogers.” Tony pointed a finger at him warningly. He gave Bucky a charming smile, “I have an _abundance_ of stories about ol’ Steve, here, if you ever want to hear them.”

Bucky in turn ignored Steve’s protests, nodding in interest to Tony, “We’ll have to sit down and have a nice long talk, I think.”

Steve rolled his eyes so hard he thought for a moment that he would hurt himself. His annoyance was short-lived, though, as Bucky slid his hand into Steve’s, intertwining their fingers.

As Bucky led him inside, Steve took a moment to actually observe the scars on his shoulder. They were pink and a fraction higher than the rest of Bucky’s skin. The rose itself was darker than the rest of the scars, the petals pronounced bright and angry against pale skin. The stem was lighter, twisting around his arm all the way down to his hand. Along the stem were sharp indents in the shape of the thorns that had once planted themselves there.

Sam took Tony up to a room for him to settle down and have clothes for the party. As they walked away, Steve could hear Tony asking to invite a friend from the village as well; someone who made the best bread and the sweetest pastries.

Steve smiled fondly, blinking as Bucky pulled him in for another kiss. It was almost as if he couldn’t get enough of touching Steve, of letting his fingers slide along smooth skin. He placed kisses on Bucky’s jaw, the short hairs there causing a subtle burn, as he stroked Bucky’s hair back.

“A party?” He couldn’t help but ask, looking up at Bucky questioningly.

Bucky grinned, “I may be using it as an excuse to dance with you again.”

Steve laughed, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist, “Seems a bit much just for a dance.”

“The staff will enjoy it.” Bucky nuzzled into Steve’s chest, eyes falling shut.

Steve hummed, propping his head on top of Bucky’s. He could have stayed like that all day, but Natasha barked at them to get their asses moving and get ready for the party. They parted ways to their bedrooms, already eager for another dance.

The party turned out beautifully, Peggy and her staff had whipped up their best desserts and morsels. The ballroom had been lit up with candles, much like the night Bucky and Steve danced. The whole staff was in their best suits and dresses, talking animatedly to one another about being human again.

Steve stood to the side, back in his yellow suit, and watched the others as he waited for Bucky. He spotted Peter, now in a nice black suit with a red tie and blue detailing, with messy brown hair and dancing with DP (whose actual name Steve had learned to be Wade). Wade was in a black suit as well, his with a red tie and detailing. The man’s skin was scarred, but his face was lit up as he spun Peter around the room.

Tony had convinced Pepper to join him at the party, and she was wearing a navy blue dress that swished around her feet with every step. Steve had never seen Tony happier than he looked dancing with Pepper. She had brought fresh bread to the castle with her, and had told Steve that she had been worried sick about him. Steve in turn had told her all about Bucky, and she was excited to meet him.

Clint had transformed into a man with close-cropped brown hair, dressed in a plain tuxedo and dark purple tie. He stood talking with Natasha, who was clad in a black dress, red curls pinned up. When he caught sight of Steve, he grinned and shot him a thumbs-up.

Sam stood with Peggy, in an all-black suit, near the windows. He laughed at something she said, motioning with his hands as he responded. Steve had complimented Peggy the first time he had seen her, in a deep red dress to match the red of her lips. She had smiled and told him that she was happy for him and Bucky.

Thor, to Steve’s surprise, had turned out to be a giant of a man, with long blond hair. He now stood in a grey suit, near the food table. Though Peggy had chided him several times for sneaking sweets, Steve saw him pluck another cupcake off a tray.

Steve smiled to himself, shaking his head fondly. At a tap on his shoulder, he turned around and was greeted with the greyest eyes he had ever seen. They crinkled at the corners, as the mouth below them spread in a smile. Steve wrapped an arm around the man’s waist, kissing him softly and drawing a laugh out of those wonderful lips. “Took you long enough.” His hair was pulled back into a small, messy bun, tied with a blue bow.

Bucky grinned, though Steve caught the quick sweep of the room he did with his eyes. He looked nervous still, underneath the façade of bravery, and Steve pulled him close, giving him another chaste kiss on the mouth, “Buck.”

At the nickname, he focused on Steve again, leaning into his embrace. Steve laced their fingers together as he slowly led Bucky to the dance floor. People’s conversations hushed as Steve spun Bucky slowly, their attention shifting to the pair.

“I thought I was too late.” Steve murmured, only loud enough for Bucky, as they spun.

Bucky looked up at him, squeezing his hand, “Steve… I’m okay.”

Steve nodded slightly, swinging him out and then pulling him in close again, Bucky’s back against Steve’s chest. He ducked his chin a bit to speak into Bucky’s ear, “How’s your arm?”

In response, Bucky rolled his left shoulder, “It’s… weird. It looks weird.”

Steve carefully turned him back around to face him, “It’s beautiful, Bucky. Everything about you is.” If he felt a little proud at the blush that bloomed across Bucky’s cheeks, Steve was going to keep it to himself.

“Yeah, well. I pride myself on my good looks.”

Steve laughed, tucking Bucky in close to his chest.

A few more turns, and Bucky’s attention was drawn to something over Steve’s shoulder. He smiled briefly, leaning in close to whisper, “I think someone else wants to dance with you as well.”

Confused, Steve glanced over his shoulder to see Peggy watching them from the edge of the dance floor. She smiled fondly when he looked, raising one perfect eyebrow. Steve grinned, kissing Bucky once before releasing him to go talk to Sam.

When he approached Peggy, she asked, “Remembered your dance teacher, did you?”

“How could I forget my best girl?” Steve bowed low, offering his hand. Smiling as Peggy took it, he led her further out onto the dance floor. He placed one hand at her waist, and took her hand in his.

After a few baby steps, for Steve to reorient himself with a new partner, they were able to step smoothly around the room. Every few turns, Steve would catch Bucky watching him, looking completely love-struck, and it made him smile.

Peggy noticed too, “He really loves you, you know.”

Steve nodded slightly, eyes moving back to her, “I’m glad. You were a huge help. I could have really messed up that night if you hadn’t taught me how to dance.”

“Oh, please. I’m sure he would still have been head over heels for you even if you had trodden all over his feet.” Peggy smiled, allowing Steve to twirl her.

Steve grinned, “Still. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I don’t need any thanks. Just treat him right and that’s enough for me.”

“Of course I will.” At her nod of approval, Steve spun her out to arm’s length, where Bucky took her other hand and stole her away from Steve, grinning at him.

“Thank you for keeping him occupied, Pegs. I appreciate it.” He pecked her cheek, bowing to her, “Would you mind if I take him back?”

“Not at all, James. Have a nice night, boys.” She gave them a fond smile, accepting another dance from Sam.

Bucky found his place back in Steve’s arms, snuggling in close. Not a few minutes passed, before Bucky was tugging lightly at Steve’s sleeve, “Why don’t we tuck in early? It’s been a _long_ day.”

Of course Steve nodded, putting a finger under Bucky’s chin and tilting it up as he kissed him, “Alright.” He took Bucky’s hand more firmly in his, leading him out of the room and to his bedroom.

Steve quickly learned that night, nestled between soft sheets, that maybe there was a lick of truth in Bucky being called a beast.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys! We've reached the end of the fic! This was quite the journey and it feels really weird to be done with it. Of course, we've not seen the last of Steve and Bucky. I've got a few more fics up my sleeve for this series, so stick around if you like and keep sharing in this experience with me.
> 
> There are two more fics planned for this series, and I'm also working on another fic at the same time, so there's definitely lots to look forward to.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who's supported me through this, it's been a long ride! Your support and kind words have really boosted my confidence and you guys constantly lift my spirits. I'm so glad you all enjoy the story so much. I also want to thank the beautiful Lila, who beta-ed the fic and pushed me to finish the damn thing (and sparked the idea in the first place). I couldn't have done it without you, and I look forward to giving you more feels!

[8 months later]

The door to their bedroom barely survived, as Steve and Bucky shoved themselves into it. Bucky reached behind him, making soft noises and pressing closer to Steve as he did so, twisting the doorknob. Both men fell through as the door opened, stumbling toward the bed in a flurry of rough hands and open-mouthed kisses.

They had slipped out of their reception early, still in their suits from the wedding. They had both quickly gotten bored with the party, and decided to sneak out. Bucky was 90% sure that Natasha saw them, but obviously she had turned a blind eye, since neither of them were getting pulled back in by their ears.

Six months after the curse was lifted, Bucky had prompted Steve to read him a new book, one that Steve actually recognized immediately as his favorite story. A story complete with far-off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, and a prince in disguise: the classic fairytale of Beauty and the Beast. Steve had told Bucky about it before, about how much he loved it, and Bucky had wanted Steve to read it to him.

When Steve had opened the book to the first chapter, settled in the couch that now presided in the library, where Bucky could lay between Steve’s legs and lean against his chest while he read, he had been greeted with a neat square hole cut out of the pages. In this was a single ring, a miniature rose etched into the side. Steve stared at it as it glittered within the old pages, briefly aware of Bucky sliding off the couch to kneel on one knee as he watched Steve hopefully. Steve’s pretty sure that his ‘yes’ could be heard all the way back to the village.

They put the wedding together in two months, and they had only lasted at the reception for about two hours, before bailing.

Steve bit Bucky’s lower lip, drawing out a whine from the other man, and murmured, “Go get out of your suit.”

“Stevie, I’d rather _you_ take it off for me.”

Steve gave him a stern look, “These are nice suits. Probably cost a fortune. And they’re from our _wedding_. We’re not ripping these ones like we did the others.”

Bucky groaned, pushing Steve back onto the bed, “ _Fine_. But only because I can’t wait to see that perky little ass.”

After their clothes were stripped and safe, Steve was more than happy to oblige to his new husband’s every request.

Even as he was recovering and catching his breath afterward, Bucky still pressed kisses along Steve’s collarbone, hand splayed across his abdomen. A blind grapple had ensued, as they pulled their boxers back on, before they settled into each other happily.

Steve chuckled softly, petting his hair and watching him. He’d never been this happy with anyone, and to finally be able to call this man his was a miracle. When he traced fingers along the scars on Bucky’s arm, the other man frowned lightly, lifting his head.

Though he was constantly reassured that the scars were beautiful, Bucky still hated them immensely. He thought they were ugly, that they were just a huge blemish. Steve would remind him that they were not disasters, showering them in kisses any time he got self-conscious, and this time was no different.

Steve rolled himself to hover over Bucky, holding the man’s gaze evenly as he did so, “Buck. You know I love every part of you.”

“Some parts more than others.” Bucky cracked with a weak grin, absentmindedly pushing a hand up to stroke through Steve’s hair.

He gave him a small smile, pressing his lips to the raised lines of the rose. It was softer than the rest of Bucky’s skin, smoother to the touch. Steve adored them greatly, and had already drawn them several times.

His papers and pencils were on a desk in the corner, gifts from Bucky for their wedding. Sketches littered the pages, little studies he’d done of Bucky’s face and the curve of those wicked lips. The little dip in his chin and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiled, the way roses looked when Natasha weaved them into crowns and balanced them upon that mess of dark hair.

Steve could feel Bucky’s eyes on him as he pressed kisses to his scars. The brunet combed his fingers through Steve’s hair, just a whisper of movement against his scalp. Steve didn’t want him to be embarrassed of the twisting lines, and told him that they were just more cracks for Steve to fill with love.

When Bucky tugged lightly at his hair, pulling his face up to kiss him again, Steve smiled into it. “I love you.” The words were just a breath between them, neither sure which of them said it. Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder as the other man pulled back enough for Steve to see his eyes were wet.

The first tears that came surprised Steve, but he caught the next ones, lips brushing against Bucky’s skin. He waited for a moment, allowing Bucky to gather his thoughts as he rubbed his thumbs over the line of his jaw.

“I never thought I would get this.” Steve had to strain to hear the words, holding his breath just to make sure he didn’t miss them. When he looked up, Bucky elaborated. “This… life. After everything, I never thought I would find someone who loved me. Didn’t think it was possible.”

Steve’s heart clenched as he gathered Bucky close, tucking him safely against his chest, “Buck…” Every once in a while, Bucky would lapse into moods like this, where he fretted and needed reassurance that Steve did indeed love him.

Bucky pushed away from him though, standing and beginning to pace. "I  _hate_ these damn scars. It's like a brand. A reminder that I'm just a beast, of everything that I've done. Just look what I did to  _you_." He motioned vaguely in the direction of Steve's chest, where there were small, shiny scars from when Steve had to carry him out of the woods. Bucky's fists clenched at his sides, and his whole frame shook with anger. This kind of reaction was much rarer, and something they were both learning to handle.

"Bucky. There's nothing wrong with you. And I'm fine. You didn't do this, I did it to myself so I could get you home."

He didn't seem to hear Steve, continuing to pace and rubbing his hand over his own scars. "Why didn't the rose completely disappear? Does it mean I haven't truly changed? That I'm still a beast?" He stalked to the dresser, ripping open one of the drawers and pulling his muzzle out of it, "I wasn't supposed to love anyone. The witch didn't want me to. That's why she gave me this damn thing. To make me look dangerous. Feral. It made me unlovable. Maybe that's what I was, what I am." At this point he stopped, dropping his eyes to the floor, and Steve almost missed the next part, "Maybe there was never a way to save me. There sure as hell wasn't any reason to."

"That's enough." The words drew Bucky's attention finally, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up, eyes on Steve and focusing in that intense way he always did. Bucky looked trapped somewhere between daring Steve to deny his claims, and begging him to tell him it wasn't true.

Steve stood slowly, watched Bucky's eyes follow his every movement like a caged animal. He took Bucky's hands in his, making him drop the muzzle on the floor. He squeezed his fingers and took a hand up to his face so he could press kisses against his palm. "You're beautiful. And I love you. Nothing will change that." Under his careful attention, Steve could feel Bucky starting to tremble. So he continued, "You don't need saving. And if you do, I'll be there for you. Till the end of the line."

And Bucky broke, arms going around Steve's shoulders as he buried his head into his chest. Steve looped an arm around his waist, and he could feel Bucky's fingers pressing into his shoulder blades, felt Bucky grounding himself. He kissed his ears and neck, whispering to him, "I love you, Buck. More than anything. Nothing can ever change that."

"…Not even when I hog the blankets?" His voice was quiet, but Steve could hear him trying to smile.

He chuckled, petting a hand through his hair, "Even when you hog the blankets, I love you. I just don't like you in that particular moment."

Steve could feel Bucky grin against his skin and place gentle kisses along the scars lining Steve's collarbone. When Bucky pulled back, he had a playful glint in his eye. Steve zeroed in on his mouth when Bucky's tongue flicked out to lick along his top lip before he sucked his lower lip in as he grinned, biting it in a way that was purely meant to drive Steve up the wall.

Bucky knew exactly what he was doing, knew that that look got underneath Steve’s skin and made him squirm. He knew that Steve enjoyed it.

“I’m glad to see you have a lot of faith in my stamina.” Steve grinned, laughing when Bucky pushed him back onto the bed.

Bucky spread his arms wide, a grin plastered across his face even as he stood mostly bare before his new husband. A deep breath made his muscles ripple, urging Steve’s gaze to wander south. The man had an almost predatory look in his eye, looking at Steve like he wanted to swallow him whole, quite literally.

“Now, now, Stevie. This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. I don’t let just anyone be graced with my presence. And you’re the lucky guy who gets to bask in my glow for the rest of your life.”

The words struck a memory, deep within Steve’s brain, of Rumlow saying those exact words. Back then, he never would have guessed that he would ever love someone saying that to him as much as he did when it came from Bucky’s lips. It sent him into a laughing fit, doubled over on the bed even as he felt Bucky staring at him in surprise.

Steve stumbled to his feet, taking Bucky’s face in his hands and kissing him for all he was worth, “I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy hearing those words.” As his hands traveled lower over warm skin, he relished in the way his fingers curved around Bucky’s hips, fitting in like they belonged there.

Bucky’s hands were in his hair, fingers combing through the short strands at his neck, as he pressed his body closer to Steve’s. His lips parted under Steve’s, tongue flicking out in a silent demand for more.

A slide of tongues drew a breathy moan from Bucky’s throat, encouraging Steve further. His fingers made little indents in his lover’s ass as he lifted him up, carrying him back to the comfort of their bed.

The movement caused Bucky to laugh against Steve’s mouth, one hand cupping his chin and jaw while the other went around his shoulders. Bucky’s legs wrapped around Steve’s waist, using the leverage to push himself forward, dragging his hips against Steve’s abdomen to show just how much he was enjoying this.

It made Steve shudder as he pushed Bucky back onto the bed, standing over him briefly. He could see Bucky’s eyes roving over him, drinking in every last detail he could, and Steve knew he was doing the same.

The smooth curve of his shoulders, and the muscles twitching in expectation beneath his skin. Under Steve’s attention, Bucky’s skin flushed and he could see Bucky’s breath hitch in his chest when a grin spread across Steve’s face. He didn’t touch yet, just observed, eyes roving over the slight dip in his stomach and following the sloping path of his Adonis belt down to where it disappeared into fabric.

Steve couldn’t believe how lucky he got, meeting Bucky and being able to marry him. Of course, he hadn’t expected them to come this far, in the beginning. The world’s funny that way, though. Life’s always surprising you, and he knew he wasn’t going to take any of this for granted. When he had first met Bucky, when he had first known him as a beastly character, cruel and loud, he had admittedly been scared. He hadn’t known if he would escape the castle alive, but his feelings had quickly shifted from fright to anger. How anyone could be so heartless, Steve hadn’t understood. And then he did. Overtime, he had found out that Bucky was just as scared as he had been, scared to suffer his entire life and have no one who truly loved him. Now, Steve made it his personal mission to make sure Bucky knew just how much he loved him, would make sure to tell him every day just how he felt.

“Any day now, old man.” Bucky grinned up at him, eyes hooded and pupils blown wide. “I’d like to move on, if you’re done ogling me.”

Steve smiled, lacking the capacity to truly snark back at him, “I could do this all day.”

“I know what I could do all day,” Bucky pushed himself up enough to hook a hand around the back of Steve’s neck, reeling him down so he could bite Steve’s lower lip and lick into his mouth.

Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same.

[1 week later]

Steve had never really enjoyed baths, until he was able to take ones that practically boiled. The hot water was a nice change, and he sought every opportunity to put the tub in his and Bucky’s master bathroom to good use.

Today was one of those days. He knew Bucky would be home soon, as he had recently taken up traveling to the village to watch Tony work. When Steve had found out that science greatly sparked Bucky’s interest, he had suggested that he go to the village and see Tony. Tony was always happy to blab about his newest inventions to people, so it was excellent bonding time for them.

Bucky had gone down today, nearly bouncing on his heels in excitement. Over breakfast, he had been chattering about how Tony was going to let him help with the building today. Steve was happy to see him so excited, and even happier to see that he and Tony were getting along so well.

Usually, Bucky would return not only with stories of the days’ adventures, but with pastries from the bakery. The pastries come with sly glances, and little comments about how Pepper was at the house again. This fact didn’t come as a surprise to Steve, who had been watching the two dance around each other for years. It’s about time they were seeing the potential in each other.

Steve sighed, letting himself sink deeper into the water. It felt nice on his skin, the steam rising from the surface warmed his face and cleared his head. He had poured in a pretty generous amount of soap, causing mountains of bubbles to rise around him. At his side, on the small table next to the tub, Steve had a glass of deep red wine, the current book he was reading, and Bucky’s old muzzle.

He had initially turned it over and over in his hands, thinking about everything they had gone through. It bothered him still, what Bucky had said about the muzzle, about it making him unlovable. It made Steve wonder if Bucky still had his doubts about Steve truly loving him. All Steve could think of was to let Bucky know just how much he cared for him. Eventually he had placed the muzzle back on the table, reminding himself that he had come in to relax. He sank into the warm water, allowing it to engulf him as much as possible without drowning himself, and let his thoughts become hazy.

A light knock on the door drew his attention, and he looked over as the door eased open with barely a creak. Bucky poked his head in, eyes alight and crinkled at the corners, “Stevie?”

“Hey. How was your day with Tony?” Steve sat up a bit, draping an arm around the rim of the tub and using it to prop his chin on.

Bucky wriggled out of his boots, leaving them at the door as he padded into the bathroom, “Amazing. We’re building a machine to help Pepper with the bakery. Like an assistant.”

“So they’re still hanging out?”

Bucky’s grin was wide, “Oh, of course. She brings him breakfast every morning, you know. And he makes her coffee. It’s sickeningly adorable.” He came to the tub, crouching down next to the porcelain bath to kiss Steve’s temple.

Steve hummed softly, letting his eyes close. At the back of his mind, a small voice was repeating the whispers he had started to hear drifting through the castle. Apparently the other kingdoms had begun to talk, commenting on how Bucky had chosen a commoner as his partner. They were upset by it, that he had not taken someone of royal blood.

“Stevie? What’s wrong? You have your thinking face on.”

When he looked up at Bucky, the laugh lines had smoothed out, and his eyebrows were drawn in close together. The brunet reached out a hand, cupping Steve’s face in his palm.

A sigh, and Steve leaned into the warm skin, “The kingdoms are starting to talk… They think you made a bad decision.” When Bucky looked confused, he pressed, “A bad decision in marrying me.”

Steve watched Bucky’s features mold into anger, watched the fire light up behind his eyes.

Bucky stood, beginning to pace in an effort to release the sudden inflow of tension, “How could they say that? They have no idea what they’re talking about.”

All Steve could manage was a shrug, tracking Bucky with his eyes. Bucky was a _prince_ and Steve hadn’t even taken a moment to think about the repercussions he could get for marrying a peasant like Steve. He sure as hell didn’t want to cause Bucky trouble, even if keeping him safe meant not being with him like he so desperately wanted to. “I’m just a peasant Bucky, you deserve better.”

This made Bucky stop in his tracks, turning slowly to face Steve, “Don’t say that. Because it’s not true.” In just a few determined strides, he was back at the edge of the tub, looking down at Steve as his hands shook, “You’re more than I have ever deserved. Don’t ever think differently.”

Steve lifted a hand, curling his fingers around Bucky’s, “Buck…”

“No. Steve, I love you. Do you know how much?” When Steve shook his head, Bucky braced a hand on the lip of the tub, using it as leverage as he stepped into the tub.

“Bucky?! What are you doing?!” Steve moved back in surprise, back hitting the end of the tub.

The other man quirked an eyebrow, sliding down into the water and causing water to spill over the edge with the added weight. He straddled Steve’s hips, kissing him even as water soaked through his clothes.

Steve sighed into his mouth, hand coming up to tangle in the dark strands of hair falling into Bucky’s face. His mouth was cold under Steve’s from the outside air, and demanding of Steve’s attention. And Steve was more than happy to give him that attention.

Bucky pulled back, a glint in his eye as he smiled, “I love you more than I hate wet socks.”

It took a second for the words to register, but when they did, Steve fell into a laughing fit. He cupped his hands around Bucky’s jaw, dropping his head into his neck as he shook with laughter. Steve could feel Bucky’s lips press against his temple and the tension left his body. Whatever life threw at them, he knew they’d handle it together.

Eyes closed, Steve felt Bucky lift his head and heard him make a soft noise in the back of his throat. When he looked up at Bucky’s face in question, he saw the other man’s eyes on the muzzle. Steve opened his mouth to get Bucky’s attention back, but Bucky reached out, picking it up off the table.

He spun it slowly in his fingers, observing it silently. Steve didn’t interrupt, just watched and waited for Bucky to say something. Bucky’s eyes roved over the mask, his fingers tracing the shape of it. His gray eyes developed a sad sheen, and alarm bells went off in Steve’s head when Bucky began to pull the muzzle toward his face.

Steve moved faster than he meant to, water sloshing out of the tub again as he grabbed Bucky’s wrists and made him freeze in place.

Bucky didn’t seem to understand, looking like he had just snapped out of some spell, like he didn’t know what he was doing. He lifted his eyes to Steve’s, looking down only when Steve spoke, “Why would you ever want to cover such wonderful lips?”

A small smile quirked Bucky’s lips, and he tossed the mask aside. He sank back down, Steve leaning up to meet him with a kiss. Bucky pressed close, and they broke apart with Bucky still straddling Steve’s hips and Steve running wet hands through Bucky’s mess of hair.

They stayed in the tub until the water grew cold, just breathing each other’s air, and the muzzle laid forgotten on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to cry about Stucky, or want to talk about this fic or upcoming stories, feel free to message me on my tumblr: bucky-butt.tumblr.com
> 
> Also go give Lila some love: silverscales-anda-redstar.tumblr.com


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